Things Are Looking Up (Part 1, 2 and 3)
by Naci
Summary: Dean is a demon, and that fact haunts him to the core. Knowing that the hunting life is like poison to him, he quits and gets a house on his own in the middle of no where. One day, an old friend come for a visit, and everything comes full circle, and old feelings begin to surface. (Destiel)
1. Help for the helpless

Dean shot up in bed, his hand immediately going for the knife he kept under his pillow. He held it out in front of him, ready to kill the monster he sensed at the end of his bed. When he saw no one was there, he sighed. Sweat covered his forehead and chest, he swallowed trying to catch his breath. He had been dreaming. A nightmare, actually. He saw Metatron stabbing him, and the look on Sam's face. He remembered the feeling of relief that it was over, then the rush of guilt when he remembered everything he'd done under the influence of the blade. All the harsh words he'd said to his little brother, the people he'd killed because he could, the look of horror on Castiel's face when he'd realised Dean had the mark. He dreamt of the voice, calling him back from the sweet nothingness he'd been drowning him, the voice that had pulled him back into the light against his will. Crowley. Dean's blood boiled at the name. He dreamt of the things they'd done together, the people they'd hurt or worse. He remembered what he'd said and done to Castiel, and it had been the look of fear in the angel's eyes that had woken him. Dean stabbed the knife into his bedside table and got up, stumbling into the bathroom down the hall of his house.

It had been a year since he and Sam had parted ways. Dean thought it would be safer that way, with him being a... being Dean. He'd bought an old ranch that had been falling to pieces. In the centre of it was a two story house which looked like it had fallen out of To Kill A Mocking Bird. A crumbling white picket fence, a raised porch with a swing and dead flower beds around the base of the house. But Dean fell in love with it the moment he saw it. Inside when you walked in was a narrow hallway with a stair case, to your right was the living room and adjacent kitchen. To the left was a smaller room which Dean used to keep all his old hunting things. His guns, and various other weapons, his father's journal and all the other books he'd taken from the bunker. He also had a few random bottles of gross looking things for various warding spells in case he ever needed them. But under the floor boards of that room, locked in a chest warded from demons was the first blade. Dean kept that room locked and the curtains constantly drawn. He was prepared to let everything dust over and he could forget all about it. The upstairs of Dean's house was a mirror of the bottom floor but with a wall making the larger room into two bedrooms. The smaller room was a bathroom. The bigger of the two bedrooms was Dean's and the second one he had made up incase Sam ever came for a visit. Though he didn't expect him too. For the last year he'd been fixing the house up with the little money he had. When the money had run out he'd found work in town in an old fashioned mechanics. Working with engines kept him calm and sane, he liked it. Cain had bees, Dean had 1L inline-three engines. When the house was finished, Dean found that the lack of a project and a drive brought back old feelings of rage and they constantly bubbled under the surface. So he'd gone in search for a new thing to dedicate himself to. Dean had a conversation with his boss at the mechanics and set up and club on saturdays for the underprivileged kids in his town. He taught them how to take care of cars, he gave them a job and at the same time taught them discipline and how to make friends. Dean had never been very good at it himself, but he found that they helped him with that. Dean was happy. At least, until the nightmares came.

Dean turned on the lights in his bath room and turned on the tap, he cupped his hands under the water and then splashed it on his face, sighing in relief. He rubbed the coldness over the back of his neck and then opened his eyes, looking at himself in the mirror. His eyes were completely black. He blinked and the dark green returned. He swallowed, splashing more water on himself before grabbing a towel. When he dreamed of himself as the demon, it came back to the surface if only for a moment. But that moment was enough for the self loathing and regret to boil back up. He dried himself and went back into his bedroom, sitting on the end of the bed and running his fingers through his hair. Moonlight poured in through the window and he looked up at it.

"Let's go howl at that moon..." the word were like poison in his mind. He growled lowly, jumping up and tugging the curtains across, blocking out the light. He stood in the darkness for a moment, feeling his eyes begin to sting. He hunched over, feeling sobs of anguish rock through his chest up from his stomach. He sank to the floor, sitting pathetically and let tears roll down his cheeks. When the deep melancholy seemed too much, he cried out, his house too far away from anywhere for anyone to hear him. But someone did.

The next morning Dean was up early, he showered and got dressed. He wore a dirty pair of jeans and a old plaid shirt. It made no sense to wear good clothes to work, they'd just get covered in grease and oil. He was sitting at his kitchen table, reading the newspaper and drinking a cup of coffee when there were two hesitant knocks on his front door. He looked up and at the door at the other end of the hall, all he could see was a silhouette. He frowned slightly, put the mug down and walked slowly over to the door. He opened it and froze when he saw the familiar face standing there. Castiel gave him a small smile. Dean almost laughed when he saw he was still wearing the same shirt, trousers and trench coat. But his eyes looked older, worn and Dean recognised a sadness he saw in his own eyes.

"Hello, Dean." Castiel's deep voice was gentle, like someone sticking a toe in first to check the temperature of the water.

"Hey, Cas... what are you doing here?" He'd said it before he could stop himself. He didn't mean it to sound suspicious or angry, but the shock of seeing his old friend made it seem that way.

"I was just... in the neighbourhood and I thought I'd stop by and say hello... and I've done that now, so I'll just..." He trailed off, obviously he didn't want to leave but Dean's tone made him feel like he wasn't wanted.

Dean smiled suddenly, stepping aside. "In the neighbourhood my ass, get your feathery butt in here."

Castiel smiled and walked inside, turning and giving his old friend a hug. Dean hugged him back fiercely, not realising how much he'd missed him until now.

"It's good to see you." His voice was muffled in his tench coat.

"It is." Castiel closed his eyes, feeling relief wash over him.

They went into the kitchen and Dean poured him a coffee.

"What have you been doing with yourself?"

"Well... after you left, Sam and I went looking for Crowley."

Dean's grip tightened on the mug he was holding. But he forced himself to remain calm. "Yeah?"

"We got close a few times but... he's got better at running."

Dean brought over to coffee and put it down in front of Castiel, he sat opposite him, drinking his own, now slightly cold, coffee and moving the newspaper to the side.

"What about you?"

He was silent for a moment, then he told him everything. But fixing the house, the saturday club and everything. Castiel listened and smiled slightly.

"That's really good of you, Dean."

The ex-hunter shrugged. "Least I can do, really. Speaking of work, I've got to get going." He paused, looking at the angel. He didn't want to say goodbye yet, but he had to go to his job. "Make yourself at home... you could even stay for a while, if you wanted. I've got a spare room upstairs."

Castiel thought over this offer for a moment, then nodded. "That sounds great."

Dean smiled. "Awesome, well we can go for a drink or something tonight after work. See you later."

Dean picked up the keys to his truck and started to head out.

"Uh, Dean?"

He turned, looking at him. Castiel held up a set of keys and the then threw them over to him. Dean looked at them and recognised them instantly. His lips parted in surprise, and then he looked at Cas again. He smiled happily and practically ran outside. His Impala was packed next to the old truck he'd been driving. He walked over and touched the hood as he walked to the drivers door. He unlocked his car and got in, breathing in the leather and gripping the steering wheel.

"Oh, baby I'm home... did you miss me?" He said out loud, running his hand over the dash. "Yeah, I missed you too."

He looked up to see Cas standing on the porch watching him, a vaguely amused expression on his face. Dean cleared his throat, trying to pretend that hadn't just happened. He started the engine, letting out an excited giggle before pulling away and driving into town.

He pulled up in front of the mechanics and killed the engine, getting out and heading in. Jake Foster was the owner of shop. He was a stereotypical jolly man with a large stomach under his overalls. Dean mused that if you put a beard on him, he'd be a ginger santa. Jake whistled lowly.

"That beast yours?" He called out, nodding to the Impala.

"Yeah, she is." Dean couldn't help himself from grinning. He'd missed Castiel and his car so much, and now he had both of them. All he needed was a visit from Sam and he'd be a very happy man.

"I'm paying you too much." Jake laughed, it was a kind of booming laugh that could make anyone smile. Jake was part of the reason Dean thought working there helped him, it was impossible to be mad around Jake.

"We got two new ones in this morning, you mind taking a look?" He walked into the shop with Dean, telling him about the cars as he put on his overalls.

"Sounds simple enough." Dean smiled, heading over. Jake watched him.

"What side of who's bed did you wake up on, son?"

Dean looked over as he picked up his tool kit, frowning slightly, but still smiling.

"You're so damn chipper, it's freaking me out."

Dean laughed slightly. "Today's just a good day, is all."

"I'll have what you're having." his booming laugh returned and he walked away. Dean smiled slightly and turned on the CD player, Metallica playing throughout the shop. Dean felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. The night previously had been a bad one, but this morning had been the best morning he'd had in a very long time.


	2. Things he couldn't say

Castiel looked around the empty house. The silence unnerved him, not even the tick of a clock broke it. He took off his trench coat and folded it up before putting it on the chair in his room. It was a nice room. A double bed against the right wall as you walked in, a large window with space to sit and maybe read or just enjoy the beautiful view from the window. A large comfy looking chair and a book shelf. The floor was the same dark wooden panelling as the rest of the whole, but the walls were painted white giving the room a welcoming feel. Cas smiled slightly. He'd never had a room before. He took off his shirt, untucking the white t-shirt he wore under neath. Back downstairs he paused at the closed door opposite the living room. He put his hand on the wood, feeling power pulsing from it. He tried the door handle, but it was locked. He was about to pick the lock like Dean had shown him, then remembered that it would be bad manners to break into locked rooms in a friends house. He pushed away his curiosity and went into the living room and sit and wait for Dean.

Six hours later he heard the Impala pulling up in front of the house, and looked to the door, waiting for the familiar thud of Dean's army boots on the porch. Dean opened the door, oil on his hands and cheek. He sighed slightly, taking off his jacket and hanging it up before he noticed Castiel sitting on the sofa and looking at him.

"Hello again."

"Hello. How was work?"

Dean chuckled slightly. "Who are you, Cas? My wife?"

"Actually I'd be your husband..."

"You never change do you?" He laughed slightly, kicking off his boots and heading upstairs. "I'll just shower and then we can head out." He paused on the stairs, leaning on the banister. "If you want to change you can borrow some of my stuff."

"I'm quite comfortable, thank you." Cas nodded his head.

"Could you at least... put on some jeans. The suit pants and t-shirt combo it's really working for you, buddy." Dean smirked slightly and then carried on, going into the bathroom.

Cas looked down at himself and then sighed, going up to Dean's room. He noticed a few photo frames that were face down on his dresser. He frowned slightly and picked one of them up. It was the picture they'd taken with Jo, Ellen, Bobby and Sam before... Cas swallowed slightly. He hadn't known Jo and Ellen that well, but they seemed like nice people. But seeing Bobby brought back an uncomfortable feeling in his chest and made his throat tight. He put it back down, picking up the next one. It was a picture of Mary and John Winchester at some kind of country fair. They're faces were smiling, happy. He put it down and picked up the third one. It was the photo Sam had taken of Dean and himself when they'd invited him out for ice cream. Dean had a mouthful of chocolate chip and scowling at the camera. Castiel was frowning at the ice cream like it had just told him a difficult riddle. He smiled slightly, looking at it for a while. Dean had been almost happy then. Before the mark, before Gladriel and Metatron, before Crowley. He left that photo up, and then grabbed a pair of light jeans, putting them on and messing with his hair.

Dean drove the two of them to a bar in town he'd been into a couple of times. Nice enough place, good atmosphere not too pricey. Great for old friends to catch up. They went in and up to the bar.

Dean looked at Cas. "What can I get you?"

"Beer, I guess."

Dean nodded and ordered a beer and a coke. They sat in a booth and sipped their drinks in silence. Castiel frowned at the drink in Dean's hand.

"Your alcohol is fizzing... Why does it do that?"

Dean smirked slightly. "It's not alcohol... I don't really drink anymore."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I figured I've got enough crap on my hands, add alcohol into the mix and you've got a very limited level of control, you know?"

Castiel nodded. He admired Dean's restraint and couldn't help feeling hopeful that dean really had made a positive change for himself. He looked at the beer in his hands and cleared his throat, saying a little too loudly. "I don't like beer."

"What?" Dean laughed slightly. "You drank it all the time with me and Sammy in the bunker?"

"Yeah, because you and Sam were drinking it..." He trailed off, looking kind of ashamed.

"Oh, Cas. You should have said something! Dammit, now I feel like a pressured you into drinking." He ran his fingers through his hair. "I'll get you something else. Coke okay?"

He pushed his drink to him, and Castiel sipped it. At first he looked like someone who had just drank lemon juice, then he coughed slightly. "It's in my nose! Why is my nose fizzing?"

Dean laughed, hard. Cas's face was a picture. His blue eyes squinted as he wiggled his nose, trying to get rid of the effect. After he calmed enough to speak he got up and got him a water. They stayed in the bar until it closed, talking and laughing; reminding each other how to be human. The beer sitting to one side, undrunk.

A figure watched them from the shadows of the alleyway on the other side of the street. Their lips curled into a smirked. "My, My, Squirrel... what have we here?"


	3. There are no angels

Dean hummed along to 'Killed By Death' from under the body of the car he was working on. His feet tapped along as he mumbled the lyrics. He heard footsteps approaching the car and assumed it was Jake.

"Hey Jake, you mind throwing me the oil filter wrench?"

There was a pause and when the person who had approached passed nothing, he frowned.

"Jake?"

"Sorry, there's a lot of metal objects out here, not sure which one you want..."

All the blood in Dean's body froze at the voice. He gritted his teeth and swallowed hard, squeezing his eyes shut he took some slow breaths, forcing himself to stay calm. Sliding out from under the car, he stood up slowly and wiped his hand, looking Crowley square in the eyes.

"You've got a bit of muck on your nose, I'll get it." The demon took a handkerchief out from his jacket and reached towards him.

Dean didn't even flinch. "Don't touch me."

Crowley paused. "Alright then." He put it away and cleared his throat. "How's things, Dean? Been keeping busy?"

Dean glanced over at Jake's office and then headed around back where they wouldn't be over heard. Crowley raised an eyebrow, looking over his shoulder slyly before following.

"What do you want?"

"Can't a man drop by to see a good friend?"

"We're not friends."

"We used to be." Crowley put his hands in his overcoat pockets, rocking back on his heels slightly. "I wanted to apologise."

"Bullshit." Dean said plainly, keeping as still as possible. He had to get away from Crowley, he could feel the mark on his arm burning slightly. A voice whispering 'kill' over and over in the back of his mind.

"You wound me, Dean." His voice dripping with sarcasm. "And here I was being so pleasant."

"Look you son of a-" Dean gritted his teeth, his hand slowly making a fist.

"Dean?" Jakes voice called out from inside.

He took a deep breath, his hand relaxed. "Out back."

Jake appeared a moment later. He looked at Crowley and then between the two of them in mild confusion and curiosity. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, just taking my break."

Jake narrowed his eyes slightly, then nodded to Dean. "Alright, I was going to make some coffee, you want?"

Dean nodded. "Sounds good."

"Milk one sugar, ta." Crowley smiled at him falsely.

"But you were just leaving." Dean looked at him, giving him a silent warning.

A wordless exchange passed between himself and his employee to make sure he was okay before he gave the two of them some privacy.

"Where were we? Ah yes, you were going to call me some insult and then punch me." Crowley smirked slightly.

"No. Though it makes me want to throw up, I'm going to try and appeal to your better nature. Crowley, please go. Leave me alone, I am out of the business completely and I do not want to get back in." he folded his arms, keeping them close to him so they wouldn't act on their own and rip the smug demons eyes out. "I'm... happy."

"I know, very happy. Squirrel and giraffe playing mummy's and daddy's and re-enacting scenes from Brokeback Mountain."

A chill ran down his spine, more disturbed about what that implied rather than what he'd actually said. "You've been watching me."

"Of course I've been watching you, you moron. You think I'm going to let someone like you out of my sights?" He gave him an incredulous look. "What kind of king would I be without spies everywhere."

"Well, Varys. Take your little birdies and get out of my sight."

Crowley waited a few moments. "Little lesson: when you're threatening someone, there's supposed to be an actual threat."

"I don't think it needs to be said really. You saw what happened to the last demon that tried to play queen of the castle." He walked past him, going back inside and towards the break room.

"Look, I know things got a little out of hand last time, but this time I can really make this worth your while."

Dean stopped with his hand on the door, looking partly over his shoulder at Crowley. The King of Hell grinned, walking over slowly.

"See? You miss it had fun, you and I. The freedom to live how you want; Kill who you want to kill, take what you want to take, go where you want to go. So what do you say, Dean? Shall we 'hit the road'?" Crowley was standing right behind him now.

Dean turned, looking down at him. He then pointed to the sign on the door and went through into the break room, slamming the door in Crowley's face. He frowned and read it, 'staff only. So piss off.'

Crowley sighed heavily. "Alright then... plan B."

Jake looked at Dean carefully when he came into the room, clearly he was fuming. Jake just handed him the coffee without saying a word. They stood in silence for a while, just enjoying the warm drink as jake waited for the fire in Dean's eyes to cool.

"When you came in here asking for a job. I turned you down. You know why?"

Dean looked at him suddenly and then shook his head.

"There was something in your eyes. It's the same look my brother Phil had when he came back from Afghan. It was a look that told me he'd been through hell, and he wasn't sure who to hate for it. He couldn't hate the people he was fighting, they were just following orders like he was. He couldn't hate his government, they were just doing what they thought was right. So do you know who his hate turned on?"

"Everyone around him?" Dean said quietly.

"Himself. He would sit alone in his house for days on end, pushing everyone away and when something tiny went wrong, he'd explode. He'd smash up the place and then drink away the guilt he felt for doing it." Jake perched on the end of the counter, watching Dean's face. "I saw that exact same look in you. I thought, here's a guy who's been through hell and hates himself for things he couldn't control. Yeah, he's probably done some things he's not proud of, but we all do stuff wrong. I mean, we're not angels."

Dean laughed slightly. "They're not perfect as they would have you think."

"You know what I mean. But then I saw you on the edge of town. Kathy Harris' truck had broken down and you stopped and fixed it for her. I watched you fix that car like it was a wounded bird, and I saw the anger in your eyes dim. Then I knew..." Jake nodded philosophically. "Then I knew you'd work for less than the minim wage and not be mad about it."

Dean laughed, shaking his head.

"You can say it."

"You're an ass, Jake."

Jake grinned, walking past him and patting him on the shoulder. "Love you too, kiddo." He paused in the doorway. "And if that british dick shows up again, tell me and I'll kick his ass."

"Thanks, man." Dean rubbed his forehead, feeling himself relax.

"You're not in trouble are you, Dean?" He frowned in concern.

"No, no. I'm fine." Dean smiled slightly, nodding.

"Alright. Then get back to work, this isn't daycare." Jake vanished up into his office.

Dean smiled slightly, finishing his coffee and then doing as he was told.

When Dean got home, Castiel was sitting on the sofa, looking out the window. He frowned slightly.

"Cas... what do you do when I'm away?"

The angel looked at him. "I... wait for you to come back."

Dean smiled slightly.

"You've got muck on your nose."

He sighed as his face dropped and he made his way to the kitchen.

"Is that weird?"

"No... it's nice." He patted his shoulder before carrying on. "What do you fancy for dinner, then?"

"Whatever you feel like making." Castiel leaned back, watching him out the corner of his eye.

"Make?" Dean laughed dramatically. "There's a pizza place that do deliveries. Wait, you don't really eat do you? It just tastes like molecules or something."

Cas shifted slightly uncomfortably. "Yes. Because that's what food tastes like to angels... no food for me. I'm an angel."

Dean leaned back slowly, looking at him from around the wall. "Cas?"

"I'm tired. I think I'll go upstairs and rest. See you in the morning, Dean." He got up and quickly made his way up stairs. Dean watched him go, frowning deeply.

"Um... okay?"

Later that night, Castiel was laying on his side in his bed, looking out the window at the tree line beyond. He was curled up, the duvet up to his nose. His grace was gone, even his stolen grace had worn out. I couldn't even hear angel radio. He was alone. There had always been the voices of his family in his head, discussing their day, giving and receiving orders, or otherwise just chatting. It was a comfort to him to know that they were always there. He thought they always would be, but now he was truly cut off. He closed his eyes, ignoring the familiar hunger and fell asleep. Suddenly, he was dreaming. He was in Metatron's office, looking at the shattered pieces of the angel tablet on the floor. Yet again he had destroyed the words of his father for humanity... For Dean. The image fluttered like turning the page in a book to another, more horrifying scene. Metatron's true form was looming over him; all thirty of his wings stretched out, casting a shadow over the cowering angel. His eyes glowed a demonic red as he spoke, his voice echoing yet quiet. It was like a whisper over a still river.

"Ahh…so Gadreel bites the dust. And the Angel Tablet, arguably the most powerful instrument in the history of the universe, is in pieces and for what again? Oh, that's right… to save Dean Winchester. That was your goal, right? I mean, you draped yourself in the flag of heaven, but ultimately, it was all about saving one human, right? Well, guess what?"

Castiel wanted to wake up, he didn't want to hear the words again. He didn't want to be reminded.

"He's dead, too."

There is was. The crashing agony that rippled over him like a relentless storm.

Castiel knew what it meant to die with the mark. Dean wasn't dead, he was lost. What would awaken in the bunker in a few hours would not be the man he had sacrificed everything for, and would again. It would be a demon, and not just a mutated human soul, twisted and torn to fit Lucifers idea of the perfect solider. But a true, pure demon. One who's only drive was to follow orders and kill as many living things as possible. A being of rage and vengeance, and everything Dean had been taught to think was evil. Above everything else, demons were the true evil that Dean wanted dead and gone. And now he was one of them. Castiel's heart broke. He knew Sam would try to save him, but he would not be able to do it. The pieces of Dean that made him the sarcastic, quirky man that had so much love for everyone he met that he would feel it as a personal defeat if something were to happen to them, those pieces were gone. Only the angry, sacred little boy that John Winchester had created would be left. As he felt the familiar sense of tears in his eyes, he sent out what would be his final message through angel radio.

_**Dean Winchester is lost.**_

Castiel jumped awake to the sound of someone knocking on the door and quickly wiped his eyes.

"Dean?" He said, looking toward the sound.

It opened and Dean came inside carrying a plate of pizza and a glass of water for him. He smiled cautiously. "I figured you'd be hungry." He spoke softly, putting it down on the bedside table for him.

Castiel looked at it and then at him. He knew. Of course he knew he was no longer an angel. He didn't say it, because it didn't matter to him what Cas was. All that mattered was he was Cas, and he needed him. His vision went a little blurry and his throat went tight. Dean looked at him in surprise.

"It's just pizza, Cas."

He half laughed, and then hugged his knees, covering his face as he started to sob. Dean felt a wave of something tender wash over him and he sat down on the bed next to Cas, half hugging him. He let him cry. He'd almost forgotten that the last couple of years hadn't just been hard for him. Castiel had lost so much, yet he had to stay strong for Sam when Dean had gone. He'd filled the role John had given Dean without question, knowing it was what he would have wanted.

Dean closed his eyes. "I'll be your wings, Cas."


	4. The fire is coming

Castiel woke up the next morning to find Dean gone and a blanket covering him. Dean had stayed with him until he'd calmed down and then they'd just sat and talked while he'd eaten the food he'd brought up for him. He must have fallen asleep and Dean had covered him with the duvet. He smiled slightly to himself. Dean was still the same really. He still cared about him, maybe the monster in him really was gone for good. A delicious smell wafted from upstairs and he got up, heading down. Dean was in the kitchen cooking bacon for the both of them, he looked up as he walked in. He couldn't help but smile at the creased t-shirt and bed hair.

"Afternoon, Cas."

He frowned slightly, rubbing his eye and sitting down sluggishly.

"It's six o'clock, man. I just got back from work." He put a bacon sandwich down in front of him, Castiel started to eat.

"I'm sorry."

Dean sat opposite him, eating as well. "Nothing to be sorry about, it's a free country."

As Castiel ate his skin crawled slightly. He frowned and looked over his shoulder at the locked door. Dean followed his gaze, trying to think of how to escape that conversation.

"Dean, is there a demon in that room?"

That was not what he had been expecting. "What?"

"I may not be an angel, but I can still feel when evil is near... and something evil is in that room."

Dean jumped up and ran over to the locked door. He knew Crowley had other motives, but stealing the blade? What did he really expect to come from it? It was useless without the mark. He unlocked it and went inside, turning on the light and looking around. He was expecting to see him ripping up the floor boards and grinning like the smug bastard he was, but the room was empty. Dean frowned, walking further in and looking around. Castiel had followed him.

"Oh." he said quietly, scanning the room and taking in all the weapons and jars of bone and various animal organs.

Dean slowly turned, focusing on him. "Did you lie to me to just get in here?"

Castiel was quiet for a moment, then looked away.

"What, seriously?!" Dean folded his arms, shocked and disappointed in Cas. Where had all the trust gone?

"I wasn't lying, Dean. I do feel evil in this room... just not from a demon." He looked down at the floor boards he was standing on. "What's under here?"

Dean sighed, walking out the room. "What do you think?"

Castiel watching him go in horror. "Dean! You kept it?"

"Of course I kept it! What else was I supposed to do?"

"Throw it back into the sea like Cain! Keep it as far away from you as possible!"

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, he didn't want to have to explain this to Cas. He didn't want to talk about the first blade ever again. "It's in a case that is warded against demons and angels and everything else you can ward against. I can't get at it even if I wanted to, which I don't by the way."

"Then why can't the chest go in the sea? Just to be safe."

"I might need it!"

Castiel felt cold with fear for Dean. "In what circumstance would you ever need the blade? There are always other options."

Dean didn't feel angry, but the guilt of what he'd done trickled back into his conscious mind. "I know what I did to you was-"

Castiel waved his hands and shook his head to cut him off. "Stop. Dean, just stop. You have to move on from that."

Dean looked at him incredulously. "Are we just not going to even talk about it?"

"It doesn't need to be talked about."

"I hurt you, Cas!" Their eyes met and Castiel saw all the guilt and the pain in his eyes. All the dark and messy emotions he had that he kept pushed down.

"Sam is on that list too... You hurt a lot of people, Dean. We all have." He sighed, trying to tell him that his guilt was misplaced. The blade amplified his emotions making frustration into murderous rage.

"Yeah and he's not here, so why are you?"

Castiel looked at him in silence for a few moments. He wanted to tell him about the way he felt around him. Even when he had the mark, Cas felt safe around him. He felt like he was home.

Dean shook his head, sighing. "You put too much faith in me, Cas, and you picked the wrong guy. I'm always going to let you down."

"That's what you're supposed to do, Dean." He closed the distance between them, standing close to him. "You do something wrong and I give you a second chance. I will give you a million second chances before I give up on you."

They looked at each other for a moment, a feeling of solidarity passing between them.

"So please, please get rid of that blade."

Dean stepped away from him, the solidarity turning into betrayal. He felt like Cas was using words he knew would calm him to manipulate him into getting the blade. Didn't Cas think he was strong enough to resist it?

"No, Cas... No." He turned away, grabbing his coat and heading out towards the Impala.

"Dean, Dean, where are you going?" Cas followed after him, stopping on the porch.

"Out! Or do you want me to throw myself into the sea as well?"

"That's not what I meant."

Dean opened the door to the car and paused, looking at him. "Wasn't it?" he gritted his teeth.

"You're not the blade, Dean."

"No, but it's a part of me now, Cas. That's something you could never understand." He got into the car and drove away. Castiel watched him go and sighed, maybe Dean was still lost.

Dean sat at the bar in town. An undrunk glass of whiskey on the bar in front of him, he looked at it for a while, and then picked it up and downed it. The familiar warmth it gave him, soothed the tension out from the backs of his shoulders. He exhaled slowly, ordering another one. Someone sat down next to him and he didn't have to look to know who it was.

"What now?"

Crowley didn't look at him, just caught the attention of the barman. "Gin and tonic, thanks."

When they both had their alcohol, they drank in silence for a good few minutes. Dean turned towards Crowley, looking at him.

"I think I get it."

Crowley looked at him, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm the child stuck in the middle of a messy divorce. You're the good for nothing dad, Cas is my cotton wool and cookies mum and both of you are fighting for my affection. Right?"

Crowley laughed slightly. "That sounds about right." He nodded, drinking his gin. "I'm not here to make you do anything you don't want to, Dean. I get that you're trying to live a normal life and I should respect that."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "Wow, Crowley. That's pretty big of you."

Crowley shrugged, smiling slightly.

"If it wasn't a complete load of bullshit."

The demon's face fell, and he sighed. "You should have more faith in people."

Dean looked down at his whiskey before drinking some. "Yeah... right..."

Crowley looked over at him, frowning slightly. "Trouble in paradise?"

Dean knew what he was up to, but for some reason he just didn't care. "He wants me to get rid of the blade."

"How can you? The blade is a part of yourself, that's like asking you to cut your arm off!"

Dean nodded in agreement. "I know... I wish he'd understand that. I thought that maybe with him living with me, it would help. Then maybe Sam could come back as well and I'd rebuild my family."

"Mama Moose and papa angel, huh?"

"It's just when he's talking about what I should and shouldn't do, and what is and isn't a danger to me it just... it remind me of dad. He was always going on about protecting Sam. That was the only thing that mattered. I wasn't his son, I was his solider."

"And you're tired of being a solider?"

Dean looked at him. "I don't think I know how to be anything else."

Crowley looked at him for a moment and then sighed. "Dean... the only person who controls what you do now, is you. Daddy Winchester is gone, Sam is doing okay on his own, he doesn't need a bodyguard anymore. Castiel only has heaven's business in mind, he always has. I'm not going to make you do anything you don't want to, but if you wanted to come back and work with me... you've got my number."

He finished his drink and patted his shoulder before heading out. Dean finished his drink and ran his fingers through his hair, thinking to himself. He weighed up both offers. If he threw the blade away and someone got hurt when he could have done something about it, he'd never forgive himself; but if he didn't throw it away Castiel would leave and he'd be alone again. If he went back to Crowley, being alone wouldn't matter to him and he'd be free again, but he would never be able to see Sam or Cas again. He sighed and did the only thing he could think of...

He ordered another drink.


	5. Let the flames begin

Castiel waited on the porch steps. The cold night air chilled him to the bone, but he was determined to sit there resolutely and wait for Dean. The large moon was full above his head and he turned his face towards it, watching the reflected light of the sun casting shadows over the earth. He sighed slowly, wrapping his arms around himself and clenching and unclenching his hands to keep the feeling in his fingers. He would wait forever if he had to. Just after midnight, he was roused from his thoughts at the sound of a distant car and headlights shining at the house. He pushed himself up, his joints clicking and protesting at the sudden movement. The impala drew closer and Castiel watched as Dean parked and killed the engine. He waited for him to get out. A full ten minutes later, Dean stepped out of the car and slammed the door, heading towards the house. There was something off about his walk, Castiel chalked it up to him being angry about before. When he was within earshot, Castiel spoke his rehearsed words.

"Dean. I want to apologise for before, I should have listened to you and after a few hours of thinking, I understand." He looked at Dean tenderly. "The blade is like an angels grace. You're not the same without it, and you can't really decide if you like having it once you've sampled life without it. I get that. I do."

Dean stopped and looked at him for a moment and then walked past him into the house, his expression unreadable. He was carrying a brown paper bag. Castiel frowned and followed him inside.

"What I'm trying to say is that we're kind of going through the same thing, and if you need to talk I..."

He trailed off, watching Dean take a couple of bottles of whiskey out the bag. He put one away and opened the other. Holding the neck, he brought the bottle to his lips and drank heavily. Cas rushed forwards, grabbing the bottle.

"Dean! What are you doing?" He couldn't contain his disappointed.

Dean turned on him, squaring his shoulder and towered over Cas, suddenly seeming even taller. "Having a drink. What does it look like?" He snatched the bottle off him and drank again as he walked towards the stairs.

"Dean, stop! Talk to me, tell me what's going on."

Dean laughed ironically. "You really want to know?"

Castiel nodded.

"When I was four years old... I thought I did something wrong; like real bad, and that's why mum died... I thought it was my fault and I was being punished for it. Then Sammy left, and it was just me and Dad. And then Dad left as well." He shook his head, the smile he had on his lips was a familiar and unwelcome sight. "I finally realised both my parents died in that night in the fire... I was just clinging to the idea of a family that I can never have. I still am." He drank again. "I bet you're happy you asked."

"What a load of crap." Castiel squared his jaw, narrowing his eyes at him.

"Excuse me?"

"None of that was your fault, Dean. None of it." He walked closer to him. "When are you going to realise you have a family. It's right here, waiting for you to wake up and see it."

Dean looked at him for a moment and then rolled his eyes. "You know what? Blow me, Cas." He turned and started up the stairs.

Castiel leant on the banister. "I'd rather have you... cursed or not."

Dean froze.

"Remember?"

He sighed, looking at him over his shoulder. "Stop trying to save me Cas. Not everyone is meant to be saved."

"I will never stop trying. I will never stop."

Dean spun back around, angrily, walking back down the steps. "Why the hell not? Why are you even here? I didn't ask you to come in the first place. Did Sam send you to spy on me?"

"What? No-"

"Then why? Why do you care so much about me?"

Castiel didn't say anything, he just stared at him. His heart pounded against his rib cage. "I... I... Because I-"

"What, Cas? You need someone to protect you now? That it? You gave your grace to Metatron and then killed another angel just because you couldn't live without it and now that's burned away, you need your house trained demon to do all the smiting for you?"

"I did what I had too, Dean. You know that." He clenched his teeth, his own anger building up.

"And what was it all for, Cas? What's this all for?" He laughed desperately, becoming slightly hysterical. "Daddy's approval? Well I got news for you, princess. Daddy ain't coming back, he couldn't give two shits about you. Why should he? You're just another Lucifer waiting to happen."

Castiel had punched Dean in the face before he realised his hand had made a fist. Clearly Dean hadn't been expecting it either as he reeled, the whiskey bottle smashing on the floor. Dean straightened back up, looking at Castiel with pitch black eyes. Castiel's anger was shocked out of him, he took a startled step back, looking at him in horror.

"Dean, I-I-I I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

Dean raised a hand to silence him. "Yes you did. Get out of here, Cas. You won't enjoy what happens if you don't... unfortunately for you, I would." There was the same malicious glint in his fathomless eyes as there had been a year ago. Castiel knew he had no choice, his mortal body wouldn't survive the attack. He ran out the house.

Dean watched him go and then looked at the spilled alcohol on the floor. He tutted. "Such a waste." He took his phone out of his pocket, dialling a number.

"I'm in." after a pause he added, "Bring whiskey." and then hung up.

Crowley hung up the phone and grinned to himself. His grin turned into a chuckle.

"Oh, it's good to be king."


	6. We will remember you

The next morning Castiel returned to the house. Though it pained him to admit, he was afraid of Dean. He was afraid of what the mark had turned him into and he was afraid of what Dean might do if he fell under it's influence again. He had resolved to go back and talk the situation through with him, to give him the support he needed to get through this - for lack of a better word- relapse. He only prayed he wasn't too late.

The sun had barely risen and when Castiel walked in he could tell Dean wasn't up yet. His leather jacket was still on it's peg and the impala was parked outside, the keys still in their bowl. Castiel was about to head upstairs and wake Dean when he heard 'Heat of the moment' by Asia playing from the kitchen. He frowned walking over and saw Dean's phone, the screen flashing. He remembered Dean had changed his ringtone to that because it freaked Sam out for some reason, the memory made him smile slightly. He looked at the caller ID, all it said was '666'. His brow furrowed again and he answered.

"Dean! Just letting you know I'll be round in a minute with our little helper and then we can get back to business." Crowley's voice sounded like he was talking into a tin can over the phone, but it still made Castiel's skin crawl. There was a pause on the other side. "Squirrel? ...Hellllooooo?"

Castiel hung up. He stared at the phone like it had betrayed him. He swallowed and put it down. _Little helper? _What had he meant by that? Then he remembered... Dean was a demon and so couldn't get the first blade out of the chest. That's why they needed someone else... a human.

An hour later Dean was roused from sleep by a figure standing over him. He grabbed his knife and leapt out of bed. He took hold of the figures throat and slammed them against the wall, his eyes turned black. Crowley grinned sheepishly.

"Might I say, black really suits you."

Dean dropped the knife and stepped away from him. "I'm not wearing the suit."

"Oh come on! It would be great, like a demonic version of the Men In Black."

Dean smirked slightly, rolling his eyes and heading downstairs. Waiting in the living room was a teenage boy. His eyes were wide and his skin sickly pale, clearly he was petrified.

Dean looked at Crowley, raising an eyebrow. The demon shrugged. "Short notice."

Dean motioned for the young man to follow him and he opened the door to his storage room. When he turned on the light and saw the state of the room, he froze. His mouth dried up and a shiver of rage ran up and down his spin. The floor boards were ripped up and the chest was open. Empty. Crowley looked over his shoulder.

"You should really throw a duster around here."

"It's gone."

"Well you can pick them up at the supermarket, Dean. Where's the nearest Tescos?"

"The first blade, Crowley. It's gone."

Crowley paused and clicked his tongue. "Well that's not good."

Dean suddenly turned, storming into the hall again. The teenager was watching the both of them with a morbid curiosity, like when a rabbit watches a fox kill another rabbit. Dean slowly turned his gaze and consequently his wrath on him. He clicked his fingers and the boy crumpled on the floor as every bone in his body snapped and shattered. Crowley looked at the mass of flesh.

"Really, Dean?"

"Did you need him?"

"Well no but-"

"Then who gives a shit? I want my blade and I know who took it." He grabbed the pre-packed duffel bag from the floor of the Hunter's room. Inside was his gun and various rounds for it, an angel blade and a copy of the important bits from his fathers journal. Sam had the original.

"Who?" Crowley followed him out of the front door.

He threw his bag over his shoulder while he waited for Crowley. "Castiel."

"That slimy little... alright, where do we find him?"

Dean thought for a moment, he knew Castiel has tattooed warding symbols on himself, so they wouldn't be able to track him. "By asking someone who might know."

"Who's that?"

Sam Winchester spun in a circle until he saw his keys on the table of the motel he was staying in. For the first time in almost eight months, he'd gone on a hunting trip. It had been fun really. Not the killing part, Sam didn't exactly enjoy that bit of hunting, but he definitely liked the part where he'd saved someones life. He slung his bag over his shoulder and opened the door. Staring in shock at the person standing on his door step, he became very still.

"Dean?"

Dean grinned. He seemed genuinely happy to see him. "Hey, Sammy. How you doing?"

"I'm... I'm good. What about you?"

Dean walked past him into the room and rubbed the back of his head. "Oh you know... I'm hanging in there."

Sam put his bag back down and shut the door. He walked over to the table his brother was sitting at and took the seat opposite him.

"You look better." Sam noted, and he did. The bags under his eyes weren't so dark, his cheeks looked fuller and there was a spark in his eyes that didn't come off as demonic.

"Oh, thanks." Dean laughed slightly and then after a moment of seriousness, he spoke again. "Look, Sammy. You seen Cas lately?"

Sam frowned slightly and thought back to the last time he'd seen Castiel. It had been a while. They'd never exactly been close before and the whole demon Dean situation didn't exactly bring them closer. "Uh, no. Why? He okay?"

"Yeah, I hope so anyway. I just want to check up on him. But enough about him, what you been doing lately? Still hunting I see."

Sam smirked slightly. "Not so much, I'm actually back at school."

"No way!"

"Yeah! I'm just helping out a friend while I had a free weekend." He nodded. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he took it out, looking at the caller ID. It was Cas. "Speak of the devil."

"That Cas?" Dean motioned to the phone.

Sam nodded and answered. "Hey, Cas how's it going?"

"Sam. I need your help." Cas sounded out of breath, bordering on panicked.

"Yeah of course, where are you?"

"I... I don't know. There are trees."

"That describes about thirty three percent of the country, dude." Sam looked at Dean and frowned to show his concern for their friend.

Dean held his hand out. "Mind if I talk to him?"

Sam nodded. "Listen, I'm going to hand you over to Dean."

Castiel was silent for a moment. "He's there?"

"Yeah, I'll pass you over."

Dean took the phone and put it to his ear, leaning back slightly and smirking. "Hey, Cas. Where are you, buddy? I'd love to catch up."

"Dean, I swear if you hurt Sam..."

"Yeah, I miss you too. Look, why don't we get together soon and exchange gifts. I've got something for you and I know you've got something for me."

There was something in his brothers tone that unnerved Sam.

"I'm not giving you the blade, Dean. I'm keeping it until you realise what Crowley is doing to you."

"Oh, don't be a spoil sport, Cas. It's not as bad as you make it sound." Dean looked at Sam and rolled his eyes.

"Killing people is bad. That's about as bad as it gets."

"No it's not... would you like a reminder?"

Castiel swallowed, Dean practically hear him pushing away the memories of what had happened the last time Dean had let go of his humanity.

"The blade stays with me."

"Then I guess I'm going to have to come and find you." He hung up and passed the phone back to Sam. "Idiot got himself lost on some bee related nature walk. You know what he's like with bees."

Sam relaxed slightly, but he couldn't help the feeling of foreboding in the back of his head. It nagged at him like an insect bite that you can't help scratching. "Yeah. Weird. I'll come with you."

He started to stand, but Dean waved him back down. "You don't have too. I've got this." He smiled. "This was nice. I'll call you, okay?"

"Yeah... okay."

Dean was about to leave and then paused. He looked back to Sam. "Could you do me a favour?"

Sam nodded and sat up slightly.

"Could you track the call Cas just made... it would make finding him a whole lot easier."

Sam grabbed his laptop, plugging in his phone and running the software Charley had set up for him before she went to Oz. He ignored the dread in the back of his mind and tried to convince it that Dean was better and maybe they could finally get things back to normal.

Dean got into his car and called Crowley.

"I've got his location, I'll call you when I get there." He went to hang up and then frowned slightly. "I'm not calling you that, Crowley... no not even for your text ringtone." He hung up, threw his phone onto the passenger seat and then pulled away from the motel.

Sammy watched him go from the window and then picked up his phone, calling Castiel back.

"Sam! Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. He took the bait."

Castiel nodded slowly and looked up at the darkening sky above him through the trees. "Good. Is everything ready?"

"Yeah, everything is set. You've better get into place." Sam grabbed his bag, heading out and to his car. "You know, Cas. This whole plan is very theatrical."

"Yeah... I learnt it from another angel playing God."

Sam smiled softly. "It's about time someone did."

Crowley walked behind Dean, his nose curled at all the nature around him.

"Why couldn't the angel pick a nice hotel with a spa?" He muttered to himself as he looked around them in distain.

Dean was looking at his phone and the coordinates that lead to Castiel's last known location. "He's not an angel."

Crowley stepped beside him. "Pardon?"

"His grace burned away. He's human."

"Oh... well that will make this easier."

Dean focused back on the path as they came into a clearing, expecting to see some evidence of the blade thief had been there. Instead he saw something much more surprising and possibly a lot more fun.

Sam stood at the front of a group of what he assumed were angels. He recognised Hannah and a five others from the cult Castiel had been running before Metatron outsmarted him. Sam's jaw tensed and he exhaled slowly, trying to calm himself. He kept his eyes on his brother, not even looking at Crowley.

The king of Hell swallowed. "What? No banner? What kind of surprise party is this?"

Dean smirked. "Don't even have balloons."

"Exactly! Where are my bloody balloons?"

Angel blades dropped out of the angels sleeves and into their waiting hands.

"Those aren't balloons."

Sam held a hand up to signal them to stop. They did as he commanded and Dean whistled lowly. "I might not be the first to point out the irony in this, but... Lucifers prom dress leading an army of angels and Michaels suit on Hell's team. It's actually kind of funny."

"Dean, you don't have to do this. Crowley is not the option, he's never been the option. I mean look at him! He's got 'stab you in the back' written all over him!"

"Been peeping through my window again, Moose?" Crowley wagged a finger at him. "Naughty."

"You're not alone, Dean. You have your family here. Me, Cas, you... we only have each other now. I wasn't there for you last time, but I am from now on. Come back to me."

Dean swallowed, looking at him sadly. "Sammy..."

Sam smiled, something softer was in his brothers eyes. It didn't last.

His expression turned into a menacing smirk. "We're brothers and you know I don't swing that way."

An angel blade dropped into his hand and he spun it around, his eyes turning black. "Let's dance, bitch."

The angels looked at Sam, he sighed and then nodded slowly. The garrison moved forwards into the attack, Hannah hung back with Sam to act as a body guard. Dean grinned. Grabbing an angels wrist, he head-butted them and, while they were reeling, turned their hand and made them fall on their own blade. He elbowed an approaching angel in the face while another stabbed him in the back. He cried out, gritting his teeth. Angel blades had no effect on him, but they still stung a quite a lot. He turned, grabbed their shoulder, and then stabbed them in the gut. He twisted the blade inside them. Unhurriedly. He enjoyed reaching them scream and watching their grace burst from their vessel. He turned in time to lean back on his left foot and kick an angel in the chest to send them flying away from him. Pulling the blade out of the now dead angel, he caught the attack of another one. While holding their blade wielding hand above their heads, he pulled the knife out of his back and stabbed the attacking angel, running the blade up him like gutting a fish. The last two came at him from either side cautiously. Dean side glanced both of them as he spun the blades in his hands. They attacked at once but Dean suddenly vanished. They stumbled forwards in confusion, then looked at Hannah for guidance and she in turn looked at Sam. Crowley laughed slightly.

"My boy does his job well, doesn't he?" Crowley smiled proudly, looking at the carnage. "He's a demon, you morons."

Sam was about to shout at him, but his words died in his mouth when he heard a startled cry beside him. Dean had the angel blade against Hannah's neck, blood on his face and hands.

"Where's Cas, Sam?" He asked quietly.

Sam swallowed and focused on Hannah. She was wide eyed and clearly frightened, but nevertheless she shook her head slowly.

Sam nodded slightly then looked at Dean and said defiantly, "I'm not telling you."

Dean pouted slightly. "Telling me now will spare hers," he pointed to the two other angels with his spare blade, "theirs and your life. We can do this the easy way, or the fun way. It's up to you really."

'The devil in disguise' started playing and everyone turned slowly and looked towards Crowley. He cleared his throat awkwardly. "You mind if I get that?"

Dean shrugged, still holding Hannah at knife point. "Knock yourself out."

Sam frowned. "Elvis?"

Dean glanced at him. "He's the king." He spoke as if it was a rehearsed response.

Crowley answered his phone. "This is the king." He paused, listening to the other side. "Alright, alright I'll pass you over." He took the phone away from his ear. "Squirrel, it's your giraffe."

"Oh." Dean said calmly, walking over to him with Hannah. "Mind holding this?"

"Sure thing." Crowley took one of the blades off Dean and they swapped places.

Dean wiped the blood on his hands on his shirt and put the phone to his ear. "Cas! I was just thinking about you! Where are you hiding, buddy?"

"Follow the light."

A spot light suddenly shot up onto the trees, clearly coming from deeper in the forest. "Creepy... See you in a few minutes."

He hung up and passed the phone back to Crowley. "This had been fun and all... but I've got somewhere to be." He waved to them. "Have a good evening." He walked into the trees towards the lights point of origin.

Sam and the angels turned their eyes on Crowley who was still holding Hannah.

"Well... this is awkward."

Castiel watched the tree line. His heart beat in his throat and he swallowed it down, getting his nerves in check. As he heard footsteps approaching he closed his eyes and prayed.


	7. Coming to a close

Dean entered the clearing, his head was held high and a mocking smirk tainted his lips. His eyes immediately locked on Castiel who was standing before him, waiting. Dean mused on how vulnerable he looked in his t-shirt and jeans. His face unshaven and his blue eyes wide like a deer that heard a noise in the woods.

"Well, well. You almost let six angels and Sam Winchester die just to keep something that doesn't even belong to you... I would say I'm shocked but you're hardly a stranger to sacrificing others, now are you, Cas?" He circled him tauntingly.

Castiel kept his resolve and his eye contact with Dean. He turned as Dean prowled around him, so as to never have his back to him.

"What? No words of wisdom and comradery?" His black eyes narrowed slightly, his simper increased. "Come on, little angel. Sing for me."

Castiel gritted his teeth and pounced at Dean, the angel blade that had been behind his back out before him. Dean reacted lightning fast, he grabbed Castiel's wrist and twisted his arm a way arms shouldn't go. The crack echoed in the clearing, Castiel screamed and dropped to his knees in front of him. The angel blade dropped on the grass and rolled away. Dean looked down at him dispassionately.

"Really?" He squeezed the broken arm harshly, making Cas shiver in agony. "That's your big plan?" He let go of his arm, grabbing him up his t-shirt and pulling him onto his feet. "I've got to say, I'm really," He punched him, still holding his shirt to keep him on his feet. "Disa-" He punched him again. "-pointed." He drew his arm back further, his knuckles now branded with blood and let him go as he punched him again. Castiel spun, falling limply onto the ground. "An angel blade?" He leaned over him. "I'm a better class of demon than that, Castiel."

Cas spat blood, and pushed himself up slightly with a shaking hand. Dean tutted pitifully and kicked him in the gut hard enough to snap a few rips. Cas cried out again, rolling onto his back. His vision was going black around the edges, but he prayed for his body to stay strong. Breath hurt, but he forced himself to breathe deep and slowly. Dean bobbed down beside him, taking in the scenery around them.

"Where's the blade, Cas?"

Castiel looked at him. "Dean... fight it. This is not you, please... fight it."

Dean rolled his jet eyes and grabbed Castiel's top, which was now stained red, and lifted him onto his knees.

"The blade, Cas. Where?"

"If you're in there... and you can hear me, if the real Dean who cares too much can hear me... you don't have to do this."

Dean punched him again, and didn't stop punching him until his cheek bone and nose felt more like putty than bone. Castiel's eye have vanished amongst the broken flesh and oozing blood.

"The blade... WHERE IS IT?" His eyes smouldered like black fire. The knuckles on the hand holding Cas in place were white.

Castiel through sheer will managed to push past the pain. "You want it? You're going to have to kill me!"

The grip on his shirt loosened slightly.

"Come on, boy. Do it... DO IT!" He bellowed. If there had been any grace in him, it would have been burning.

Dean gritted his teeth, almost roaring as he attacked Cas again with a flurry of punches and kicks. He wasn't sure where the desperation to hurt him came from. He thought it was his need for the blade, but he felt something else gnawing on his soul. He let go of him, now out of breath.

Castiel lay on his side, curled up slightly. His voice was no more than a whisper. "Dean... Please. It's me. We're family... I love you."

Dean froze. The three words shot through him like adrenaline in a dying man. His throat became too tight and he suddenly felt very aware of the injury in his back and the emptiness in his heart. "...what?"

Castiel looked at him through his good eye decrepitly. "I have loved you since before I knew what it was. Every time I had to choose... I always chose you. I will always choose you."

"But... Cas..." The black in his eyes drained away slowly, the green glistening with tears. As the demon inside him fell asleep once more, he was flooded with guilt and pain he never thought he could feel. He dropped to his knees next to him and reached out to him with a trembling hand. He shied away from it involuntary and whimpered slightly. A tear rolled out from Dean's eye as he realised the extent of that he had done. "I'm... I'm poison. Look what I've done to you... I could never forgive myself. I'm hell bound."

"One day, Dean Winchester. One day you'll understand." He extended his hand out to him, taking hold of his jacket tightly and pulling himself up slightly. Dean helped him carefully. "One day you'll know without asking. I'd go anywhere, as long as it's with you."

Dean half laughed, half sobbed. He held him close, trying not to put pressure on anywhere that was injured. Castiel ignored the pain as best he could and clung to Dean, relief washing over him.

"You're my unicorn, Dean." He said against his shoulder.

Dean smiled slightly and held him like drowning man holds a buoyancy aid. "Stop with all these chick flick moments, man. I can't handle it."

"I don't care." He grinned as much as his wounded face would allow. "I love you."

"I love you too, you idiot."

Sam walked into the clearing clapping. Dean shot up, still supporting Castiel slightly.

"Finally! It took nine years and the damn mark of cain, but you too finally got it together." He grinned and looked at his brother proudly. "I'm so happy I could cry."

"Screw you, Sam." Dean scowled at him, not able to hide the blush rising up from his chest.

Hannah walked into the clearing. Her neck was bleeding slightly, but she seemed otherwise unharmed. Crowley was being held by the other two angels. His lip split and his face red with anger. Dean gritted his teeth as he saw the King of Hell. Castiel put a hand on his chest to calm him. Dean looked down at him and then gently helped him to his feet. He turned his attention to Hannah, motioning to Cas pleadingly. She walked over and touched his face, he straightened as he was healed.

"Thank you... Hannah, I'm sorry... It's just... the mark... I'm not trying to make excuses, but-"

She smiled softly, shaking her head. "It's okay, Dean. It's okay."

"Well isn't this just peaches and cream?" Crowley spat sarcastically. "So what now, Dean? You going to kill me?"

Dean looked at him, surprisingly calm. "No. What I'm going to do it much worse." He stalked towards him menacingly. Castiel watched him carefully. "You're going to wish you were dead... in fact, you might try to end your miserable existence yourself. But then you'll just wake up again, and the hell will be agony."

"Actually I find hell quite pleasant." He muttered.

"Cas, I could really use the blade now."

Castiel frowned, "Dean..."

He looked at him, a whisper of a smile on his lips. "I've got this."

Castiel nodded and went into the trees, after a moment he came back with the blade. He stood beside Dean and held it out to him. The bearer of the mark looked at the stained animal jaw that had both saved and destroyed him. He looked at that weapon and felt nothing put hatred towards it, and then he knew. He knew he was no longer worthy. He took the blade, the mark glowed on contact like it always did. He stood before Crowley, looking down at him. The demon swallowed. The familiar trickle of fear take hold of his body and he became rigid.

"Dean, come on! I never made you do anything. I just spoke to you."

"Yeah... I know." He lifted his knee slightly, holding the handle of the blade and the end and he brought it down against his thigh. The blade snapped in two. "But words have more power than you think, Fergus." He nodded to one of the angels and they held out Crowley's arm and rolled up his sleeve.

Crowley started to struggle. "Aw, come on! Are you serious?! Dean! Please!"

Dean took hold of his arm.

"I'm sorry!" he met his eyes. They held genuine honesty and dread in them.

"Sorry isn't good enough," He smirked. "Bitch."

The veins on Dean's arm glowed red as the mark slowly started to melt away from his skin and into Crowley. He felt all the rage, all the desire to destroy and devastate, all the grudges he couldn't let go drain out of him. Emotions he didn't even know he was capable of feeling anymore filled the gaps they left. Once the mark was gone, Dean let him go and stepped away. He threw one half of the blade to Sam.

"Take it. Lock it away somewhere, throw it on a dump, burn it, do whatever. Just make sure neither me or the dick of the Hell will ever find it."

Crowley winced and lifted his head. His eyes blazed black with shots of the red of the mark in them. He shrugged out of the grips of the angels, sending them flying away. Dean turned in shock and then stopped dead as pain filled his belly. He dropped his head down, looking at the half of the first blade sticking out of his torso. Crowley grinned.

"Now what, righteous man? You're human..." He twisted the blade then let go.

Dean shuddered and then started to fall. It felt like the world was suddenly moving in slow motion. Crowley turned and bolted into the trees, the three angels running after him. Castiel and Sam sprinted to Dean and he felt hands catch him and guide him down. He heard voices, but they were muffled and he couldn't make out the words. He turned his head, looking at Castiel. Though he wasn't, he looked like an angel with the morning light behind him. His deep blue eyes huge and glimmering with tears. Dean wanted to wipe the tear from his cheek, but his body wasn't responding to him. Then suddenly, like someone pressing play, everything was too bright and too fast. He was in pain. He felt heavy and light at the same time. He could hear what they were saying now.

"Dean, come on, hold on." It was Sam's voice. "You're going to be okay. You've had worse..."

"Remind me?" He managed feebly.

Castiel was smoothing his hair and looking down at him.

"Cas... I'm... okay." Darkness was clawing it's way across the corners of his sight. "I'm..."

Dean went limb, Castiel clutched him despairingly. He turned his head to the trees, shouting until his voice was raw.

"HANNAH!"


	8. A brand new start

Castiel looked down into the empty six foot hole at his feet. He sighed, his grip on the top of the shovel tightening as he thought about what he was burying. He thought back to the pain and the misery, the peace and the war, the hope and the desperation. He was burying what both ruined his life, and brought him his hearts desire. He felt a warm hand on his shoulder and tore his eyes away from the pit and to the wonky smile of Dean Winchester. Dean stepped beside him and dropped his half of the blade into it. Sam had taken the other half with him after Hannah had healed Dean and they'd parted ways. He poured salt and lighter fluid over the old bone and then lit a match. He was holding his breath as he let go of it and as it fell he felt the last string holding him to it snap. Fire billowed out of the hole. As the heat rushed over him, he felt like a phoenix rising from the ashes. His soul was light when he thought of the life waiting for him. A simple life of fixing cars and teaching kids, a simple life with Castiel.

"And Crowley?" He said quietly, unable to take his eyes of the cracking and burning blade at his feet.

"Otto caught up with him, Hannah is taking him Heaven to have him imprisoned there." Castiel replied as he watched it slowly turn to ash.

"Good." He looked away finally and brought his attention to Castiel. "So it's over then?"

Castiel met his gaze. "Yes. It's over."

They waited until the fire died and then filled in the pit and covered the spot with dead leaves and other forest debris. Dean let himself breath at last, relief running through him. He was free.

"Home?" He asked the man he loved.

Cas nodded, smiling slightly. "Home."

As they walked away Castiel glanced at Dean and then slowly slipped his hand into his. After a moment, Dean held his hand and they walked back to the waiting Impala, a faint smile turned the corner of his lips.

Crowley walked down the narrow corridor of Heaven's lock up. Most the cells were empty, and if anyone was in one they usually were curled up in the corner muttering to themselves or pacing or carving things into the wall with bleeding fingers. Crowley raised an eyebrow.

"Is this a prison or the looney bin?"

Two angels walked behind him with a hand each on his shoulders. His hands were joined with cuffs that had devil traps etched into them. For some reason, they worked. There was something about this prison that made him feel weaker, he felt that even without the cuffs he wouldn't be able to teleport or smoke out. They opened the cell next to him and walked in. They sat him down and then walked out and locked him inside. He sighed heavily as he looked around his grey walled home.

"Not even a magazine to read..." He muttered.

"Tell me about it." A voice said from the cell next to him. "What I wouldn't give for a book."

Crowley leant against the wall. "What you in for?"

"Oh, you know... trying to SAVE HEAVEN!" His cellmate shouted down the hall, everyone ignored him. He sighed. "What about you?"

"Killed Dean Winchester."

There was a low chuckled from the cell next to him. "I bet that worked as well as it did when I killed him."

Crowley frowned slightly. "Metatron?"

"Crowley." Metatron smirked. "It's good to meet you finally. I'm a real fan of your work."


	9. Song list

You Found Me – The Fray

Have Faith In Me – A Day To Remember

Seven Devils – Florence And The Machine

No Light, No Light – Florence And The Machine

Hail To The King – Avenged Sevenfold

Broken Pieces – Apocalyptica

Shepherd Of Fire – Avenged Sevenfold

Running Up That Hill – Track And Field

Hope you enjoyed this fan fiction!

Part two of Things Are Looking Up coming soon...


	10. (Part two beginning) The Road So Far

The mark of Cain drove Dean into isolation. While he was grappling with guilt, anger and depression, Castiel showed up on his doorstep. But the peace he brought couldn't last. He was followed by Crowley, who is desperate to have his personal killing machine back.

After talking to Dean proved... ineffective, he tried a different tactic and after Dean and Castiel had a fight and he got a few drinks in Dean, it paid off. But before Dean can get his hands on the blade again, Castiel takes it and organised a welcome party of angels and his brother.

Castiel meets Dean in the trees alone and after a scene that was **very **similar to the scene that broke Naomi's hold on Cas, the two finally admit the feelings they've had since the first moment they laid eyes on each other.

Dean then forced the mark onto Crowley and Hannah took him to Heaven's lock up where he is to remain for the rest of time.

At least he has Metatron for company...

What could possibly go wrong?


	11. Solider Without A War

Dean shivered in his sleep. His brow furrowing as he gripped the sheets tightly. In his dreams he saw flashes of faces that seemed to be people he knew. At first he couldn't see them, and then Dean was in darkness and Bobby was standing ahead of him. The old man's figure flickered slightly like a bad signal on a TV. His face was pasty and his eyes were surrounded by dark and sleepless marks.

"Dean..." Bobby spoke from between his teeth. "You... You did this to me."

Dean reached out to him but Bobby's head suddenly shot back, flames pouring out of his eyes and mouth and as he burned away he wasn't Bobby anymore, it Mary Winchester burning.

She looked at him, a glowing tear rolling down her cheek."Why, Dean?" she whispered. "Why didn't you save me."

Dean swallowed, he felt the weight of the darkness and the guilt crushing him. "I tried."

Suddenly Mary flickered and it was Jo standing in the blaze. Her skin was black and burned, she grinned maniacally. "Tried? You didn't try Dean Winchester. You let it happen." Jo rolled her head back in an inhuman fashion and when her face came back around again it was John Winchester. He shook his head slowly. "I'm disappointed, Dean."

Dean gritted his teeth, his eyes stung and his throat so tight he couldn't breath.

"I told you to take care of Sam and what are you doing? Playing house with some angel." John scoffed. "A man. You're not my son."

"Dad..." Dean started to walk towards him. "I didn't ask for this. I-" The darkness dropped like a thick curtain to reveal a grave yard. Dean frowned, turning around. Sam was standing by a twisted branch covered in thorns with a blooming red rose on the end. He was wearing a white suit and smiling softly at Dean.

"I know you won't say yes to Michael. And I know you won't kill Sam. Whatever you do, you will always end up here." He looked at the rose. Studying the crimson petals as if they were the most beautiful things he'd ever seen. "No matter what choices you make, whatever details you alter, _we_ will always end up..." He turned his attention back to Dean. "Here."

Dean felt a hot tear rolls down his cheek as he remembered that he had seen this before when Zachariah had sent him to the future to see where his path would lead if he continued to reject Michael.

Lucifer smiled. "I win. So I win."

Dean knew he didn't and he found himself smiling. "You're wrong."

The angel gave him a look that made Dean think he knew something he didn't. "See you in five years, Dean."

"Dean!"

He jumped awake, grabbed the wrist of the hand on his shoulder and reached for the knife under his pillow that wasn't there.

"Dean! It's me, it's Cas. You're safe. It's okay!" Cas turned on the bedside light with his free hand. His blue eyes blood shot and wide. He had been sleeping as well as Dean had been. The constant nightmares he had made him shout and move loudly, sometimes even throw things across the room. They were usually dreams about the things he'd done while the Mark of Cain was branded into his arm, but the last dream had been different. The end... it had felt real. Dean broke down. His body rocks with sobs, he let go of Cas and turned away from him. He lay on his side and curled up as he buried his face in the pillow. Cas watched him, his chest hurting at the sight. It must have been a bad one. He half wondered what he'd seen but he wasn't going to ask him. He got onto the bed next to him and lay beside him. He didn't touch him, he just turned off the light and stared at the ceiling as he waited for Dean to calm down. He was used to this by now. Sometimes Dean would sleep through the night, other times he'd wake up screaming or crying. If he woke up, he'd either go back to sleep after a couple of hours, or he'd get up and go to the barn to the side of the house where he was starting to build a car and he'd stay there until he had to go to work and fix other people's cars. At the beginning, Castiel had tried to comfort him but Dean always pushed him away. With his words and sometimes physically. It never hurt and he didn't mean it to, he just wanted to be left alone.

After about twenty minutes, Dean had calmed down enough to turn over. He took slowly and long breaths. Castiel didn't look at him or move, he waited for him to take the first step.

"I think something is wrong with me..." He said quietly.

"You've been through a lot, Dean. If it didn't effect you, you wouldn't be human..." Castiel turned on his side towards him, reaching out and rubbing Dean's thumb gently with his index finger. After a moment, Dean turned his hand and held it out flat, Castiel took it and intertwined their fingers. "Did you see your mother again?"

"And Bobby... and Jo... and Dad... and... Sam." He closed his eyes, sighing heavily as he rubbed his face. "It wasn't Sam, really. It was Lucifer."

Castiel frowned and held his hand slightly tighter. "Lucifer?"

"You remember I told you about when Zach the dick sent me to the future?"

"_A _future, Dean. A future that's not going to happen while Lucifer is in the pit."

"I know, Cas, I know." Dean muttered.

Castiel stared at him seriously. "You have nothing to be afraid of."

"I'm not scared." He said defiantly and tried to let go of his hand, but he held on unyieldingly. He looked at him. "Cas... what if he got out?"

"He's not going to." When he saw that didn't comfort him, he added. "We'd be there to stop him... together."

Dean smiled slightly, he lifted their hands and placed a kiss on the back of Cas'. "Together."

They lay like that for some time, not saying a word.

"Well... If you're feeling better I'm going to go back to bed." Cas nodded and started to get up.

Dean kept a hold of his hand. "Cas, we've been together for a while now, we live together and my stupid nightmares keep you in here most the night anyway. If... if you wanted to stay you can." He swallowed, feeling his cheeks redden slightly. Cas clearly didn't get what he meant as he just frowned at him. "We can share a bed, Cas."

"Oh." Cas smiled slightly then rather awkwardly lay back down.  
The silence was palpable and Dean puffed his cheeks. "Well this is more awkward than I thought it would be."

Dean arrived an hour late to work at Jake's Mechanics. He'd finally fallen asleep again and consequently he slept through his alarm and didn't get up until Castiel did. He'd quickly showered, thrown on some clothes and was now tugging on his jumpsuit as he grabbed a random tool from the side and pretended to have been there the entire time.

"Dean." Jake was suddenly right behind him.

Dean jumped and turned around as he forced a smile. "Hey, boss."

"Can I talk to you in my office?" He folded his arms, his expression was unreadable.

"Yeah... course." Dean's pulse started to rise.

Jake headed towards his office and with a glance around the shop, Dean followed. He hadn't questioned where Dean had been a few months ago when he'd missed a couple of days off work, but he guessed he'd noticed and that meant he'd chosen not to ask. There was something about Jake that both soothed and unnerved Dean. It was like the old man just understood Dean completely, as well as trusted him.  
Jake shut the door after him and then asked him to sit. Dean sat, he scratched his right arm absentmindedly.  
Jake's office was tiny. There was just enough room for a desk, a filing cabinet and two chairs and even then it was cramped as hell. There was a picture on his desk of a wife and daughter he never spoke of and Dean had never met. From the amount of hair on Jake's head he assumed the photo had been taken some time ago. Jake squeezed around the desk, sucking him some of his impressive waist line and dropping into the seat. Dean figured he might as well start with explaining himself, the grovelling could wait.

"I'm really sorry, Jake. I slept through my alarm and I got here as soon as I could. I promise it won't happen-"

"Dean, you've worked here for about a year now. You're usually here before me. I don't care that you were late, I just care about you."

"Huh?" He raised an eyebrow.

"You look like hell, son." Jake leant on the desk. His warm brown eyes full of concern and from his tone Dean couldn't help but be reminded of Bobby which sent bolts of grief through him like pins and needles.

"Look, I'm not accusing or judging you, but... is it drugs?" Jake looked like the words didn't make sense in his mouth.

Dean couldn't help laughing slightly. Of all the things he'd done in his life, drugs had never been one of them. Well, almost never. There was that one time when he'd snuck into a college party and ended up in a hot boxed room. The rest of the night seemed to be only flashing lights and the drone of bad music with a heavy bass line.

"No, I'm not on drugs..."

"Oh. Well good. It's just your eyes are usually bloodshot and you're kinda thin looking at the moment... then there's the arm thing."

Dean frowned and then looked down at his arms. He was scratching where the Mark of Cain used to be. He folded his arms to stop himself. "I just haven't been sleeping well, lately."

"How's things with Cas?" Jake and he had met when Castiel had picked Dean up from work one day. Dean didn't know what they'd spoken about but when he came over, Jake was laughing hysterically and Cas was looking at Dean like he was worried his boss had gone mad.

"We're fine." Dean smiled slightly.

"Well you have seemed happier since he's been around." Jake leaned back in his chair. He relaxed now he knew his employee was okay, other than having a touch of insomnia. "You got a bath?"

"What?"

"Try having a bath before going to bed. Put on some classical music, have a beer and just soak for a bit."

Dean gave him a dispassionate look. "Classical?"

"Alright, classic rock then. Just give it a go."  
Dean sighed and said he would before heading back out and getting to work.

Castiel tapped his fingers on the kitchen table, looking at the phone in front of him. He sipped his coffee slowly, his eyes still locked on the little machine. It suddenly started ringing and he practically threw his hot drink away and grabbed it.

"Sam." He said without looking at the caller ID.

"Uh... yeah. Hello to you too, Cas." Sam laughed slightly. "You called? Like... forty times."

"I'm worried about Dean."

"When are you not?" Sam leaned back in his chair in his apartment. He closed the law book he had been studying from and rubbed his face. "What's he done this time?"

"Nothing bad... he just isn't sleeping." Castiel sounded so upset about it, it made Sam smile slightly. It was nice to hear so much love in the voice of someone who was with his brother. "It's not dissimilar to what happened to Hadraniel..."

Sam frowned slightly and pulled his laptop closer. He balanced the phone on his shoulder and held it there with the side of his face as he typed 'Hadraniel' into Google. "Enlighten me, Cas?"

"Oh. He used to be a warrior leading an army of angels to war against a group of knights of hell... well the battle didn't go very well and he saw a lot of angels die. He was never the same after that." Castiel paused as he drank the rest of the coffee in his cup. "He used to shake a lot, and sometimes he just start screaming and throwing fire around if anyone mentioned war or knights of hell around him."

Sam frowned at 'throwing fire around' and then continued to read the Wikipedia page.

"Well anyway... He was assigned to be a gatekeeper instead. He was fine until a soul kept staring at him and he freaked out again. Michael had to calm him down." Castiel put his mug by the sink and eyed the piles of dirty dishes.

"Sounds like PTSD." Sam muttered, still reading the page.

"What's that?" Cas frowned slightly.

"Post traumatic stress disorder..." Sam trailed off as he realised how much sense that made. He silently cursed Crowley and the mark all over again. "He needs to see someone... a professional."

Castiel nodded slightly. "I agree completely, Sam. But who could he talk to that would actually understand... other than another hunter or Cain?"

Sam sighed again, then looked at the calendar. His bar exam was a week away. He looked back to the books and swore under his breath. "Okay, I'm coming over. I'll be there by tomorrow."  
"Good idea. He'll be happy to see you." He hung up and then looked around the empty house as he thought to himself.

Sam ran his fingers through his hair and then got up. He grabbed a bag from his room and collected up some clothes and a the most important law books he had and then hit the road.


	12. A Dead Man's Words

Sam knocked on the front door of his brother's house before he let himself in.

"Hey! Anyone home?"

Castiel's head poked out from around the kitchen doorway. "Sam."

"You know, hello works just as well as a greeting." He laughed slightly. He put his bag down and went over to him, pulling him into a hug. "Where is he?"

Cas hugged him back. "Barn."

Sam nodded and let him go. "How are you then, Cas?"

"I'm doing good." Cas smiled. "I'm happy."

Sam grinned and patted his shoulder. "Good."

"How's school?"

Sam pushed down the panic about his exam in a week's time that he knew he had to be back for. "Great, yeah... harder than I remember. I guess I got out for practice."

They chitchatted for a while until Sam cleared his throat slightly. "Guess I'd better go let him know I'm here."

Cas nodded and Sam headed over to the barn. The closer he got, the louder Black Sabbath became. Sam smirked and shook his head as he walked in.

Inside the barn was like mechanics heaven. There was the shell of a car that had definitely seen better days on bricks. The car looked like a computer stripped back to its motherboard with various wires and complicated looking parts poking out and running deep into the heart of the machine. It was perfect for learning about its inner workings.

"Seriously got to update the music, Dean." He spoke out as he looked around the barn for his brother. "It's the 21st century, join us."

"Glad to see it's not only me." A voice spoke from behind him and he spun. A teenage girl smiled up at him. Her auburn hair was pulled back into a pony tail, she wore a dark blue jumpsuit over what looked like jeans and an Avenged Sevenfold t-shirt. She itched her cheek, leaving black oil from her fingers on her face. "You must be Sammy."

"Sam." He corrected automatically. "What's your name?"

"I'm Maria. Dean's teaching me how to fix a muffler back on."

"It's easy really. She's just slow." Sam frowned, hearing his brother's voice but not seeing him. "Down here, Sammy."

He looked down and saw Dean's feet sticking out from under the car. He opened his mouth to speak but Dean beat him to it.

"No, I have not been terrorising munchkins, don't even think about it, Dorothy."

He pushed himself out and stood up, wiping his hands. He nodded to Maria. "Take a look, see what I did."

She nodded and crawled under the car. Dean looked at Sam and grinned.

"Hey little brother."

"Hey Dean."

They hugged, Dean slapped his back like he always did. "How's it going?"

"Not bad, what about you?" Sam tried to keep his tone casual.

"Oh, I get it!" Maria called out from under the car.

Dean smiled slightly. "See? Easy right?"

"So easy!" She pushed herself back out, standing up. "Thanks, Dean."

"No problem. Go wash up, there's a sandwich waiting for you back at the house."

Maria took off her jumpsuit and hung it up, heading out the barn.

"So, Mr Winchester... Saturday school?" Sam folded his arms, feeling a little proud of his brother. He'd done a lot of growing lately.

"She doesn't get on with the other kids so I'm teaching her on her own for a bit." He went to the sink on the side of the wall and washed the oil and grease off his hands and face before taking off the jumpsuit and hanging it up beside Maria's. "It's good to see you, Sam. How long you planning on staying with us?"

Sam smirked slightly. "Not that good obviously."

"I didn't mean it like... shut your pie-hole." Dean shook his head as they headed back towards the house.

Castiel and Maria were sitting on the porch making awkward eye contact and eating sandwiches in sync. Dean paused for a moment and watched them in confusion. "I worry about him sometimes."

"That seems to be a running theme with you two..." Sam muttered.

"Huh?" Dean looked up at him, raising an eyebrow.

"Don't get mad, but Cas called me... the nightmares, Dean? When where you going to tell me?" Sam folded his arms.

"When it became important... they're just dreams." He waved it off, refusing to believe there was anything else at play here other than his guilty conscience.

"Like my dreams about Jess and everything else were just dreams?"

"Give me a break, Sam!" Dean sighed.

"There was demon blood in you, Dean. That does stuff to you." Sam frowned in concern. "Now what where these dreams about?"

"Just stuff, look I don't want to talk about them. When I start seeing house fires and then they're on the news I'll let you play Doctor Phil, okay?" He squared his jaw, clearly getting angry.

"Fine, fine." He held his hands up in surrender. "And I was thinking I'd stay for a few days... I've got to be back at school on Friday."

"Deja vu, anyone?"

"I just... I just want you to be okay so Cas and you can have a life, you know?"

Dean smiled slightly and stood on his tiptoes, wrapping an arm around his brothers shoulders and pulling him down to his level. He ruffled his hair. "I know, Sammy."

"Please stop."

Dean got Sam set up in the spare room and was getting ready for his own bed when he felt warm hands run over his chest and a body press against his own from behind. His heart stopped and a lump of nerves rose in his throat. He was suddenly very aware of how little he was wearing as he stood there in his slacks. Castiel's breath was hot against the back of his neck and set shivers down his spine.

"Cas... I..."

He shushed him quietly as he left small and gentle kisses across his bare shoulders. Dean swallowed the lump in his throat which just shot back up again regardless. He turned around slowly, standing face to face with him. His head bowed slightly and he leant his forehead against Cas'. They stayed like that for sometime, Dean trying to rake up the courage to close the gap between them and kiss him until his lips hurt. Cas tilted his head back slightly. Dean could feel his breath on his lips, suddenly the same lips were gently brushing against Castiel's before withdrawing. Cas let out a little sigh of contentment and did the same back to him. Dean suddenly took hold of the back of his neck and pulled him tightly against himself as he kissed him deeply. The kiss was strong and wet and filled with so much desire neither thought they could handle it. Dean didn't know how it happened, but suddenly they were on the bed and Cas had his legs wrapped around his hips; their hand on each others chests, backs and thighs. Hot hands on hot skin. Castiel's hand slipped under the front of the waist band of Dean's slacks and his eyes shot wide open. He broke the kiss, looking down at him panicked. Castiel frowned in concern, taking his hand back.

"Dean? Dean what is it?"

Dean swallowed, his eyes stung and the lump in his throat was replaced by a tightness. "I... I..."

"Dean... you're crying..." Castiel sat up slightly and reached out to touch his face.

Dean flinched away. He didn't want to but he couldn't seem to stop himself. He backed off the bed, stumbled and crashed into the dresser.

"Dean!" Castiel reached out to him, as if trying to comfort him from a distance. "Talk to me, what's going on?"

"I... I can't do this... I... sorry!" He grabbed his t-shirt and headed out and went down the stairs.

Castiel watched him go, wondering what he'd done wrong.

Dean sat on the porch. His head was in his hands and hot tears chilled on his cheeks in the cold night air. A thought had popped into his head while he and Cas had been... getting closer; a memory really. He'd been fourteen and on a hunt with his Dad. They'd driven past a gay couple who were holding hands, John had looked at them in the rear view mirror and made a disgusted noise.

"Really? It's bad enough in private." He'd muttered.

Dean had frowned and looked back as well. He didn't see why though. The two of them seemed happy. "How come, Dad?"

"Dean, being gay is worse than being a demon. Two men together... it's just wrong. It goes against nature, and you know what we do with things like that." John looked at him and smirked as he tried to make a joke out of it.

Dean hadn't laughed and John kept looking at him until he forced a smile. John smiled back at him.

"That's my boy."

Dean shivered but he wasn't sure it was because of the night chill or his fathers words.

When he'd turned sixteen he made a friend at one of his temporary schools. His name was Ian. He closed his eyes and remembered the time he and Ian had snuck out to a movie when he was supposed to be looking after Sam. They'd sat on the back row. Half way through the movie he felt Ian's hand slip into his own and give it a small squeeze. It had felt nice, but as soon as Dean realised he liked it bile and fear rose in his throat and he'd turned on Ian. He'd punched him again and again until the cinema staff had dragged him out and called John. The police had explained what had happened. John bought Dean the first ice cream he'd had in months that night.

The porch boards creaked behind him and he looked over his shoulder. Sam was standing close to him. He gave him a small smile and sat down next to him.

"You okay, Dean?" He asked sleepily.

"Yeah... yeah I'm fine..." He turned his head away and wiped his eyes quickly.

"Look, I get it. This is hard on you, it's hard on Cas and believe it or not, seeing you like this isn't exactly easy on me." Sam ran his fingers through his hair and then leant forward slightly, looking at his brother. "Cas loves you. I love you. That's all that matters. Family, remember?"

Dean sniffed and then cleared his throat, nodding. "Yeah, yeah I know."

"Alright. So what's going on with you?"

"I just... remembered something Dad said and... well..." He trailed off.

Sam didn't have to imagine what his homophobic and vague redneck father had told Dean when he was a kid. He gritted his teeth slightly. "Dad was an asshole."

"Sammy!"

"Being dead doesn't mean we have to forgive him for what he did, Dean." Sam looked at him seriously. "He left us alone for days on end with barely enough money to get by. I saw you starving for me just so I had enough food to eat. He raised you to always put everyone else before yourself. That's why you went to hell for me, that's why you told Cas to leave instead of looking out for him and that's why you accepted the mark from Cain. You don't understand how much you matter to the people around you, Dean. And it breaks my heart."

Dean looked at him, his lips parting slightly in shock.

"But what breaks it more is that you are still Dad's solider." Sam sighed. "And that you still give a shit about what a dead man thinks of you."

Dean closed his mouth, he was speechless. Not because Sam would say something like that, but because he finally realised it was true. He smiled slightly and hugged Sam tightly. Sam hugged him back instantly.

"You're going to be okay, Dean."

"I love you, Sammy." He smirked, letting him go.

"Love you too, you big gay bear." Sam grinned, watching his brother head back inside.

Dean paused on the doorstep. "Actually I'm bisexual, FYI." He grinned and winked before heading back upstairs.


	13. When One Door Opens

Dean, in his half-awake state, thought of the night before. He remembered how the moonlight reflected off a thin layer of sweat that covered them both. He remembered Cas' nails running down his back and his fingers getting knotted in his hair. He remembered the silent moans and the groaning of his name against his ear and neck. He remembered the cries of pleasure and the way their bodies moved together like that was what they were made to do. Dean smiled slightly in his sleep, turning onto his side and feeling the bed next to him for the one he loved. He pulled Castiel close against him and grinned, kissing the spot behind his ear. He shivered slightly as he felt the kiss and turned his head. He was still mostly asleep when their lips met and caressed each other.

"Dean…" Cas' deep voice turned the whisper into more of a husky growl that made Dean's hairs stand on end in a good way.

Dean made an agreeing sound against his lips and moved them to his neck, sucking his skin slightly as his lips came together.

"Dean…"

He dragged his lips across to Castiel's neck, kissing him across the curves of his throat as he ran his hands up his thighs.

"Dean, Sam is standing in the doorway."

Dean's hand stopped and he slowly turned his head, meeting his brother's traumatised gaze. "Morning, Sammy."

Sam gagged. "The door is wide open! Control yourselves!"

Dean saluted him, grinning. Sam gagged again and then started to walk away.

"Mind shutting the door?" Dean called after him.

There was a pause and then Sam reappeared with a hand over his eyes, he slammed the door shut. Cas and Dean looked at each other and then burst out laughing.

"'Morning Sammy'?" Cas repeated as he tried to control his laughter.

"Oh he's seen worse." Dean grinned and kissed his forehead, starting to get up.

"Where'd you think you're going?" Cas leant back on his elbows. "Aren't you going to carry on where you left off?"

Dean smirked slowly and climbed back onto the bed, crawling up Cas' body and then kissed him deeply.

Sam opened the front door and walked into the kitchen with the law books he'd left in his car. Dean was standing in the kitchen sipping coffee and reading the newspaper. Sam stopped when he saw him, and Dean slowly met his gaze.

"What?"

Sam shook his head slowly. "You're reading?"

"I know, the horror." He responded sarcastically, looking back to the pages.

"Sam put his books on the table, setting them out to study. "Where's Cas?"

"Picking up some stuff from town. What you got there?" He nodded to the books, putting his mug down on the counter.

"Oh, I've got some tests coming up so I thought I'd better get some work done."

"I guess you don't want to come fishing with me then?"

Sam looked at the books, then at his brother and smirked. "I guess it can wait."

Dean grinned. "Awesome."

As the brothers were driving through town, red and blue flashed in the impala's rear view mirror. Dean frowned and pulled over to let a cop car shoot past them. He wasn't sure why, but he his skin crawled with a deep feeling of dread. A comfortable lump developed in his throat and he watched the police car turned left, away from the direction of the lake and towards the town. Sam looked at his brother, concerned by the crease in his brow.

"Dean?"

"Hm? Oh right…" Dean cleared his throat and started the car again. He drove to the cross roads and stopped, not signalling either way but staring down the left road.

Sam sighed. "We're not going to do any fishing are we?"

"I just want to check it out."

"I don't think that's a good idea." Sam didn't see how looking for trouble would help either of them with they're supposedly normal lives.

"Oh come on, Sam! It's not going to be anything we need to worry about." Dean glanced at him. "I just want to make sure no one's hurt."

He sighed, folding his arms. He wasn't happy about it, but he knew he wasn't going to be able to talk Dean out of it. The eldest Winchester grinned and turned left, following the path of the cop car.

When they arrived on the scene the police had set up a cordon around the entry to a house. There didn't seem to be any outward sign of what had happened. Dean killed the engine and peered through the front window.

"What do think?"

"Looks harmless enough… a break in maybe?"

A coroners van suddenly turned the corner and pulled up in front of the crime scene. The Winchesters exchanged glances and then got out of the car in unison. As they walked up to the barrier, the deputy sheriff glanced over and double took, his focus on Sam. Dean smirked slightly which peeked Sam's attention.

"What is it?"

Dean laughed slightly, covering it with a fake cough. "This should be fun."

The deputy walked over. "Heya, Dean. How's it going?"

"Hey Bill, not too bad. Yourself?"

"Yeah… everything is swell." He glanced at Sam again, and then back at Dean and then to Sam again.

Dean pretended he hadn't noticed and looked over Bill's shoulder at the scene. Bill cleared his throat.

"Who's your friend?"

"Hm? Oh, right. Bill this is my little brother, Sammy." Dean patted Sam's shoulder. "He's come by to visit after a nasty break up."

Sam frowned slightly. What was Dean doing?

Bill looked back to Sam, his expression understanding. "I'm sorry to hear that. What happened?"

"He was a possessive asshole, you know the type. I think Sam had a lucky escape there." Dean glanced at Sam and winked subtly.

Sam sighed, suddenly getting it. "Yeah, real lucky… last time I pick up a guy at a bar."

"Yeah, what you want is someone you can trust." Bill smiled slightly.

"That's what I've been telling him! Hey, Bill… maybe you two could go and get a drink. Sam could use one."

Sam looked heavenward for a moment. "Yeah. I could."

Bill looked around, unsure. "I don't know, Dean… I'm supposed to be keeping an eye out around here…"

"I'm not going to tell anyone…" Dean nudged him, grinning. "Go have some drink. You deserve it."

Bill smiled back, nodding. "You're right… Thanks, Dean."

"Anytime."

Bill ducked under the police tape and walked beside Sam. He motioned for him to follow him and they headed towards the bar down the street. Dean grinned.

"You kids have fun now!" He called after them.

Sam turned and gave him the death glare. Dean blew him a kiss and Sam rolled his eyes, walking with Bill.

Dean sobered and looked around before he ducked under the tape and headed to the building. At first he didn't see anything, and then he went into the bedroom and stopped. The over powering smell of sulphur made him gag involuntarily, but it was also the blood that made his own run cold. There was blood everywhere. It splattered the walls, the windows and created little puddles on the ground. The body, or more accurately the pieces of what used to be a human, was sprawled across the bed. Great caverns of giant claw marks through their torso, one of their arms was missing. Dean swallowed, exhaling slowly.

"Hellhounds… why did it have to be hellhounds?" He muttered.

An unwanted memory suddenly flashed into his head. A hellhound was tearing into his flesh, the claws like white hot rods digging into him like he was the dirt under its feet. He remembered the snarling that sounded like a thousand souls screaming that made his ears bleed; and the sulphur breath on his face, burning his eyes like acid. He was paralysed by the memory, his throat too tight and dry. His neck felt like it had fused together and he was unable to look away. Another memory replaced the first, this time he was watching it happen to someone else. His own hellhound ripping and slashing into a deal maker. As his beast mutilated the human, a small smile had grown on his face. Blood had spurted from him and splattered Dean's face, he jumped back as if it had actually happened again. He could almost feel the warm liquid running down his cheek. Dean stumbled backwards and out the door. He ran into the alley and dropped to his knees, unbuttoning his shirt that was now too tight. He was hyperventilating and unable to get control of it again, his skin felt hot and cold at the same time and he felt weak. His entire body was shaking. He closed his eyes, straining to force out the images that plagued him. When he felt a hand on his shoulder he cried out and stood up quickly, reaching for a gun that wasn't there. He stared at the man before him in astonishment. He thought, wished, that he was just losing his mind and hallucinating.

"You…" He breathed, his heart only pounding faster, but he was surprised how strong his voice sounded.

Cain smiled slightly. "Hello, Dean. You seem troubled."

Dean swallowed, trying and failing to get control of himself. "I… I don't know what's wrong with me."

"It's the mark, Dean. It does this to you…" Cain stepped closer and Dean held his ground. "Hellhounds, correct?"

"Yeah… but I know the guy it killed. He hasn't left this town in twenty years and there's not crossroad here…"

Cain smirked slightly. "The king of hell seems to have disappeared again. And after what happened to Abbadon… thank you for that by the way-"

"My pleasure."

"-No demon is willing to step up and take control. There's chaos in Hell. Demons don't know what they're doing. It's all falling apart."

"Not my problem." Dean said defiantly. He could feel where this was going, and it wasn't going to let it.

"Of course not, you're just the mark bearer after all…" Cain gave him a sardonic look and then cleared his throat. "Speaking of which, it's time."

Dean frowned slightly. "What?"

"Remember what you promised me?" Cain folded his arms, his eyes looked older and more worn than they had before. His beard was unkempt and longer.

Dean did remember, and the familiar sense of dread rolled down his spine. "You want me to kill you…"

"Yes." Cain nodded.

"Look, man… no can do. I don't have the mark anymore, and the blade is gone." Dean sighed slightly. "I'm sorry."

Cain stared at him for a long time as if trying to decide whether he was joking or not. "Where's the blade?"

"I burned my half, I don't know what Sammy did with his and it's going to stay that way."

Cain's hand was suddenly around his throat, holding him to the wall. "That was not yours to destroy, boy. The promise we made was not one you can go back on. That was a blood bond, Dean. You HAVE to kill me."

Dean groaned, he tried to get free from Cain's iron grip but he couldn't. He felt the air in his lungs run out and couldn't breathe to refill them. "I… can't…"

Cain pulled him back and then slammed him against the wall again, making his back crack and see stars. "You MUST!" Cain's eyes were pitch black with rage, it was the same rage Dean had recognised in his own. Cain was a broken man.

After almost too long, Cain dumped him in the ground, stepping away. Dean gulped in air and coughed violently, trying to clear his air way.

"You will find the blade, Dean. And you will take back the mark and then you will kill me like you owe." Cain looked down at him, speaking with barely contained rage. "Then, and only then, may you make your own choices. If you don't do what I ask… I will destroy everything you hold dear. Starting with your brother."

Dean looked at him in horror.

Cain kept the same hard look. "You have three days." He vanished.

Dean pushed himself up, holding onto the wall for support. What the hell was he going to do?


	14. In Three Days Time

**(A/N: haven't had time to read through this so sorry for spelling/grammar/just plain awful writing. If I hadn't posted it now, you'll have had to have wait for about a month so... win some, lose some. Enjoy! Don't forget to make my day and leave a review :) )**

Castiel was in the kitchen unpacking the food and house hold goods he'd bought from town. He hummed to himself lowly as he did so. It was a habit he'd picked up when he turned human. Without the stillness he gleaned from his grace, he found himself becoming more and more restless. He was bending down to put bleach in the cupboard under the sink when he heard the front door slam. He started to stand up when he felt hands on his hips. For a split second they were gentle and then he was being roughly spun around and shoved him against the counter. He looked rather startled at Dean, whose eyes were blood shot and eyebrows knitted together.

"Dean, what-" His words were cut off by Dean's lips pressing hard against his own, kissing him desperately. Cas kissed him back, not sure where this all was coming from. After a few more moments he pulled back, stroking the side of his face and then gripping the side of his neck gently as he looked into his eyes. "Dean, what's happened?"

Dean shook his head out of his grasp, pulling Castiel tightly against him and kissing his neck. Cas squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ignore the little shivers of pleasure Dean's lips gave him.

"Dean, talk to me!" He tried to push on his shoulders, but Dean reached his weak spot. It was the small patch of skin just below his earlobe were his jaw met his neck. Dean bit there teasingly and Cas felt himself melt again him. He moaned softly and involuntarily, regretting instantly what he was going to have to do.

"Stop it, Dean." He shoved him hard, letting him know he meant business. Dean gave him some space, still holding onto his hips but not making any more moves. "What's happened?"

Dean exhaled slowly, his breathing haggard. "I… I've got to take the mark back…"

Cas looked at him in horror and disbelief, but he wasn't done.

"But I'm not worthy of it anymore… so I… have to become worthy." He swallowed, looking at him. His eyes more bloodshot than before.

"…what does that mean?"

"I'm going to make a deal to turn me into a demon and then I'm going to get the mark off Crowley, find the blade and kill Cain."

Cas stepped out of his arms, tensing and loosening his jaw angrily as he walked from Dean, his head was spinning. He couldn't believe what he was hearing, he wouldn't believe it. He felt sick and dizzy, yet so alert he almost felt like he did when his stolen grace was still intact. "Isn't there… another way?"

Dean sighed, rubbing his stubble harshly. "No… not without putting you and Sam in danger and I'm not going to do that. Not again."

Cas looked at him suddenly, guilt washing over him. He was Dean's weakness now. "I can't lose you, Dean."

He looked at him, meeting his broken stare with a forced yet strangely genuine smile. "I'm not going anywhere. Not while I've got my angel around."

It took a moment for Castiel to realised he was talking about him. He wasn't sure why, but his words unsettled him instead of comforting like they were supposed to. Dean walked over to him, taking hold of his waist more gently now. "It's going to be okay… I know what to expect this time."

Cas looked down and frowned. He still wasn't comforted. Dean saw that in his eyes and sighed, running his fingers through his hair and looking around desperately, as if an answer would just drop into his lap.

"How long have you got?" Castiel asked quietly.

Dean paused. Should he just get it over with? Or should he give them some time to adjust to the idea. An idea popped into his head, it might make it easier for all of them. "Three days…"

The silence continued for a long time. They stood there, looking at each other. The silent conversations they were so used to passing between them. After a moment, Dean shivered slightly.

"I… I feel dirty. I'm going to grab a shower."

Castiel just nodded, not sure what to say.

"You want to join me?"

There was another brief pause and then Cas was walking past him and up the stairs, tugging his hoodie off his shoulders as he went. As soon as Dean realised that that was a yes, he jogged after him, unbuttoning his shirt as he went.

Sam came home a few hours later, his hair wind swept and his cheeks tinted crimson with embarrassment. Dean and Castiel were sitting in the kitchen talking in hushed whispers, when they saw Sam come in Dean hissed angrily at Cas who returned with another angry hiss. These were loud enough for Sam to pick up.

"What aren't you going to tell me, Dean?" Sam folded his arms as he narrowed his eyes at his brother.

Dean sighed heavily. "I… I bumped into Cain."

It took a moment for Sam to register this. He cleared his throat and joined them at the table. "As in Cain and Abel, as in the mark of Cain, as in the jerk that got you hooked on the first blade which meant you almost killed Cas… twice."

Dean flinched noticeably at that, by Cas rested his hand on his knee supportively which relaxed him again. He knew he couldn't keep feeling guilty for things he couldn't change. He'd been doing it all this life, and everything that happened to him because of the blade taught him that shit happens and he isn't some superhero that always gets everything right. He wasn't a hero. He was a man.

"Yes that Cain."

"What did he want?"

"He wants me to kill him…"

"Good."

"Sam, it's not that simple. I need the mark to kill him… I need the first blade."

There was a pause.

"Fuck that."

"Sammy!" Dean was shocked.

"What? No way am I letting you take that mark back, no way, Dean!" Sam's voice raised in defiance. He was not putting his brother back in the firing line, never again. "We'll find another way."

"If I don't kill him in three days… you and Cas are going to be on his 'to kill' list. I'm doing this, Sam. Trust me, okay?" He looked at him pleadingly.

Sam didn't like this, he didn't like it at all. The little voice of reason in his head told him that Dean wasn't alone this time. This time he had the both of them to help him through it. Dean was strong really, and Sam believed he could keep control. He believed in him.

"Okay." Sam nodded, sighing. "Okay, I trust you. When are we going to say hi to Crowley?"

Castiel spoke up finally. "Not yet."

Dean frowned at him.

"Last three days human, Dean. We should do something."

Then it suddenly hit Dean. He was going to be a demon again. Somehow the lack of the mark, being stabbed by the blade and then healed by an angel had made him human again. But attaching himself to the two meant he would have to become a demon again. Not only that, but he wouldn't die or age… and Castiel would. Castiel would grow old and fade away, but Dean would remain, forever. He swallowed the thick lump in his throat and blinked away the tinging in his eyes. He felt an arm around his shoulder and looked up. Castiel's blue eyes were turned on him, he smiled softly, knowingly. Dean fell against him, burying his head in his shoulder and breathing in the scent of heather and fresh rain that he always seemed to have. He never wanted to leave this spot, right there in his arms. Sam rubbed his back gently and they just stayed like that for some time. Dean eventually got a hold of himself, though he hadn't let himself cry. He wouldn't. There would be no tears from Dean Winchester because he hadn't lost anything yet. Not yet.

"I still want to go fishing."

Sam laughed slightly. "Okay, Dean. We'll go fishing."

So they went fishing. There was a lake outside of town that was partly secluded by pine trees. The water was cold and so clear it was a mirror of the world around it. It looked like someone had copied the world and reversed it below the real one. The three of them sat up the water's edge in silence, Dean and Sam with beer at their feet, Cas had a lemonade. Still lemonade, he still hadn't gotten used to the bubbles in carbonated drinks, he said they unsettled him. They spoke of little things, like birthdays and hunting trips that stuck in their heads for reasons other than failure or loss. They stayed there for hours, laughing so loudly that all the fish were scared away and none of them caught a single one. But it didn't matter, they were together and they were happy. Cain was almost forgotten as the members of Team Free Will spoke of better times and made like of the worse. Sam watched his brother and Castiel exchange smiles and the occasion arm touch and hand squeeze and just found himself smiling. He had seen it coming, but feared Dean would never be able to just let himself feel what he so obviously had for Cas. He'd also feared that Castiel would never say anything, partly because he might have not understood what love was. Of all human emotions, love was by far the most complicated. But he the other part was the fact he may have never realised Dean felt the same way at all. For all the happiness it had brought Dean, Sam was almost grateful to Cain and his mark and blade… almost.

The sun was setting and Sam was putting the things away in the boot of the Impala. Castiel lay back on his elbows, with Dean's head on his chest while they looked out at the lake. Castiel closed his eyes, inhaling deeply the scent of Dean's shampoo and that smell he just always seemed to have. It smelled like desert air and old leather and something that was just so Dean, he didn't think he existed anywhere else. Castiel opened his eyes again and looked down at the man who was laying against him. The burnt orange light giving his green eyes an amber tint to them.

"Why can't we just stay here?" Dean said quietly.

Castiel sat up slightly, smoothing his hair because he couldn't find the words to comfort him.

"I just want to stay here, in this moment…" Dean looked at him, not having to say the words for Cas to hear them.

_With you._

Castiel leaned down as Dean pushed himself up, their lips meeting midway. They clung to each other, their lips pressing hard and desperately, both thinking if they let go the other might vanish forever. Dean shivered slightly, still not used to the feel of someone else's stubble against his chin. It wasn't unpleasant, in fact he found it kind of hot. Sam cleared his throat loudly and they separated.

"You ready to go?" He called out to them.

They two just kept looking at each other. There was something in Cas' eyes that Dean recognised and it broke his heart. Fear. There was fear in his eyes.

"Yeah…"

Dean pushed himself up and then held his hand out to Cas. He took it and they went back to the car together.

That night, when Dean had fallen asleep and Sam was passed out in front of the TV in the living room, Castiel had gotten dressed and taken Dean's pick up for a drive. He drove for hours and hours until the sun started to rise. His phone buzzed in his pocket, but he ignored it. He had to.

Though it was the middle of the day, the playground was empty. Castiel walked over the damn grass towards two people sitting around a sand pit. One of them was a young girl with long blonde hair over her shoulders. She looked up as he approached and whispered something to the older woman with her. They stood up as he stopped before them and the three stood in silence for a few moments.

"Azrael… Pura…" He greeted them in turn.

"Castiel, you know you can't be here." Pura, the angel with the young girl as her vessel spoke for the pair.

"I know. But I must speak to him."

The two looked unsure.

"It's about Dean Winchester."

"Sam! Sam!"

Sam jumped awake, snorting slightly as he did so before looking around the room with wide eyes. He reached for a gun he didn't have.

"Dean?"

Dean came running into the living room, he held his phone in one hand and a slip of paper in the other. His hair was a mess from a restless night's sleep and his eyes were slightly bloodshot. "When did Cas leave?"

"What?"

Dean thrust the paper into his hands, Sam fumbled slightly but finally got it around the right way.

Written in Castiel's spindly hand writing were two words:

**I'm sorry.**

"Where the hell could he have gone?!"

Sam pushed himself up, grabbing Dean's shoulders supportively. "Hey, Dean. It's okay, calm down." He rubbed his shoulders slightly while his brother took deep breaths.

"You think he's gone to find Cain?" Dean's eyes went wider at the thought.

"No way. He wouldn't go without us…" Would he? A small part of Sam knew that the strong warrior of God became kind of an idiot when it came to Dean Winchester. He took stupid risks and chose paths he shouldn't walk down, always for Dean.

"Then where? Where's he gone, Sammy?!"

Castiel walked down the rows of cells, most were empty besides a choice few with huddled, shaking creatures curled up in the shadows. He heard the voice before he saw the face.

"My, my… here comes my favourite traitor…" Crowley leaned against the bars, the side of his face visible from the minimal light in Heaven's prison. His eyes had dark rings under them, his cheeks were slightly hollowed and he had a scraggly beard growing in his chin. "How's married life?"

Castiel walked straight past him, not making eye contact and not even pretending to acknowledge his existence.

"Rude." Crowley muttered and Cas heard the clinking of chains as he shuffled to the back of his cell again.

Castiel stopped in the cell next to him, turning his hard gaze into beyond the bars and meeting the small smile on the angel's smiles. Metatrons smile grew and he stood up, moving casually closer.

"Well, this is a surprise. And what would our fearless leader desire from the scribe of God?"

"I'm not leader."

"So you keep saying yet… here you are." Metatron held onto the bars, looking up at him. His curled more matted and he too had signs of unrest on his vessel's face. "Wait no, let me guess… it's for Dean Winchester?"

"I need my grace back."

There was a pause, suddenly the two cells both erupted into laughter. Metatron turned his head slightly.

"Who had two months?"

Crowley chuckled slightly. "You, I'll see what I can do about that drink."

Castiel gritted his teeth, his anger bubbling. "Metatron!"

The scribe turned back to him sharply, something like surprise on his face. "Yes, Castiel?"

"My grace. I need it."

"You know that's not possible."

"Yeah, what's the sudden interest in getting your wings back, giraffe?" Crowley leaned against the wall, smirking to himself. "Being human not enough for you and Dean anymore? Does he had a thing for feathers?"

Castiel ignored him and Crowley shifted again, looking in his general direction. "Unless of course… Old squirrel isn't ticking 'human' on his census form either." He laughed again. "Once and addict, always an addict."

"You're one to talk, Crowley." Castiel spat bitterly.

"Yes, but my addiction was forced upon my by your moose in law, remember?"

Castiel decided he should just keep ignoring him. Nothing good ever came from talking to Crowley. Metatron had been watching his for a while and he sighed dramatically.

"Alright, Castiel… there might be a spell you can try, BUT! I want something in return."

He didn't want to ask, he really didn't. "Which is?"

"When you're done with the book… I want it."

"What book?" he frowned.

"Raziel's book…"

The entire prison seemed to go still, like someone had pressed pause.

"No." Castiel said defiantly.

"Well then, I won't tell you where to find it and I guess you'll just have to stay human. Give my love to the Winchesters."

Castiel couldn't believe what he was about to say. But he had to have his grace back, Dean had said so himself. They needed an angel. "Alright… you can have it. But you have to read it under supervision of angels I choose."

Metatron considered this and then nodded. "Seems fair." He held his hand out towards him through the bars. After a moment Castiel took it and they shook hands.

"Where's the book?"

"St. Catherine's Monastery… Egypt. I'm sure an angel can give you a lift."


End file.
